


Sticks and Stones

by Byacolate, mywordsflyup



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Begrudging Colleagues to Friends to Lovers, Jaal's Affection Erection, M/M, Non-Pathfinder Ryder, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2018-10-29 23:58:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10864812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywordsflyup/pseuds/mywordsflyup
Summary: An ambassador, a general, and a poet walk into a Tavetaan...





	1. Chapter 1

Beloved of the Moshae. 

 

That's what they're calling him these days. Not even a full moon cycle on Aya, and the little diplomat - Meridian's interim ambassador - already has a name for himself. Evfra's spent little enough time with him to really understand what makes him tick, but he figures he knows enough. He shares the Moshae's scientific devotion, and he hasn't caused a diplomatic incident yet, but as far as Evfra's concerned, anyone who once shared a womb with the human Pathfinder ought to be avoided. If he's anything like his sister, Evfra will finally be forced to question the Moshae's judgment. 

 

He's beloved as a darling pet might be, Evfra figures when he thinks of Ryder at all.

 

It's easy to ignore the presence of yet another alien on Aya, even after the war. There are plenty of Kett stragglers to coordinate against, and even more angaran troops to withdraw from the field. Every deployment feels as much like a triumph as the homecoming. Evfra has made sure of it. 

 

So it comes as little more than a nuisance when the newest of the Moshae's favored is escorted to his office one bright day. There's little else to occupy Evfra as he waits for news from his scouts on Kadara and Voeld, so he's forced to greet the interim ambassador with only mild impatience.

 

"Ambassador," Evfra nods, glancing between Ryder's escorts - his own guards, the traitors - before returning to the human. "What brings you here?"

 

“I’ll only need a moment of your time,” Ryder says. Human voices always sound strangely flat to Evfra - something about their vocal cords, he assumes. Ryder isn’t any different but perhaps a little more soft-spoken than others of his species. Not that it matters much. 

 

“At least you’re honest about the amount of time you’re about to waste.”

 

Ryder smiles beatifically. “I heard you appreciated honesty.” 

 

A joke? Evfra narrows his eyes. Not the same sense of humor with which his sister plagued but it’s still bad enough. He can feel the irritation beginning to build in his chest. 

 

“Get on with it then.” 

 

Ryder ducks his head and for a moment Evfra thinks he has offended or embarrassed him. But no such luck. He spots the smile on Ryder’s face before he can hide it. 

 

“I talked to Ambassador Rialla.” 

 

“Who?” 

 

“Rialla. The Nexus representative before me.”

 

Evfra can feel his patience dwindling. “And?” 

 

“She tried to get in touch with your resistance to talk about some sort of joined remembrance celebration? To commemorate the fallen in the war?”

 

“You speak as though you’re uncertain of your own words.” 

 

Another smile, no dimmer than the last. “I just have to admit I’m little confused. She seems to have trouble getting anyone above the rank of soldier to talk to her.” 

 

Evfra keeps his face blank despite the annoyance building in his gut. He thought he’d made himself clear enough to keep  _ all _ his people from talking to her to any great extent. 

 

“And what makes you think I can help with that?” 

 

He can see the guards, Kess and Ettan, exchange  _ looks _ behind Ryder. “Well,” Ryder says, gesturing toward him. “You’re about as high-rank as it gets.”

 

Evfra glares at the guards over Ryder’s shoulders, who keep shuffling and glancing at one another with poorly disguised amusement. “I’m not an event organizer.”

 

“You’re the man who led your people to victory - a pillar of the community.”

 

There it is: flattery. Not even his sister stooped to the basest level of manipulation. He must think Evfra a simpleton. The corner of Evfra’s mouth ticks up, and the guards blanch. “If it’s a pillar you’re looking for, surely you can’t have discounted the Moshae.”

 

Ryder genially mirrors his expression, as though they’re exchanging pleasantries. “I approached her first. She agreed with me that you should have a greater voice in planning a memorial celebration. Maybe the greatest.”

 

Evfra’s first instinct is to deny he has the time for this - a  _ party _ for an alien collaboration under the ruse of commemorating a tragedy the depth and breadth they couldn’t begin to understand. So that’s exactly what he says. And he doesn’t stoop to revel in the calm mask of acceptance that falls over Ryder’s face as he inclines his head and excuses himself from the room. Instead, he turns back to his communicator, checking the status of his scouts - still no response. 

 

He’s in the middle of typing a follow-up to a sleeper team on Havarl when footsteps approach from behind. “Evfra.” Kess and Ettan have returned, without the human. Evfra turns to face them fully. Ettan nods to Kess, who shuffles from foot to foot but doesn’t break eye contact. “We… many of us,  we want the memorial, too.”

 

Evfra blinks. Frowns. “I don’t begrudge us a day of celebration after what we’ve endured,” he says, firmly. “To the contrary, I’d encourage one, and many more. I find it insulting that the aliens would make a show of  _ collaborating _ an event for overcoming sorrow with a people they have never mourned.”

 

“Yes, but- “ Ettan looks to their cousin before meeting Evfra’s gaze. “They defeated the Archon. Since they arrived, they… well, lots of them… they’ve fought by our side. They’re wiping the Kett from the galaxy, just as we are. Evfra, we…”

 

It’s in that moment that Evfra realizes he’s going to have to retract a sentiment. To an alien. Not even ten minutes after issuing it in the first place. He nods to them, to himself, and turns with a clipped sigh. “Noted. I assume one of you has the ambassador’s comm signal - I’m not about go running after him.”

 

If Ryder is surprised by his change of mind he doesn’t show it. He also doesn’t come back to his office straight away like Evfra expected. Instead, he makes an appointment for the next day and excuses himself as he’s on the way to his next meeting. It’s a busy time for diplomats, Evfra supposes. Right after the work, when all the blood-soaked labor is already done. A time for words and pleasantries and  _ parties _ . 

 

It’s enough to put any self-respecting person in a mood. 

 

Ryder returns early the next day, quite notably without any guards by his side. Which either means Kess and Ettan are trying to avoid his glowering or Ryder is a lot dumber than he looks. Or perhaps he’s just naive, thinking a world without the kett means a safe one. 

 

Rumor has it he slept through most of the war and even afterwards was struck down with some illness. Evfra watches him now, looking for some kind of sign of it - some leftover weakness. But Ryder looks healthy enough. He looks a little short. A little scrawny, perhaps. But then again, all of his kind seem so to Evfra. 

 

“I’m glad you made the time for me,” Ryder says and smiles. He doesn’t use the words  _ change of mind _ but they hang in the air between them nevertheless. 

 

“I don’t have much of it to spare so get on with it.” Evfra makes an impatient gesture. “What kind of celebration do your people have in mind?” 

 

Ryder’s smile doesn’t falter. “That’s exactly the point,” he says, tapping his fingers against the side of his datapad. “You were right yesterday, of course. Nobody knows the losses of the war like your people do. This should be about them. We’d be grateful to join and help in any way we can.” 

 

Evfra eyes him evenly. “So you are looking to absorb angaran traditions now.” 

 

“I was lucky to learn a bit about your culture in the last few months but it’s only a fraction.” Ryder sets the datapad on the surface before them, maintaining a polite distance from Evfra as he swipes through page after page of text. “I’ve been compiling information on angaran customs and laws, condensing them for easier access for our people. We know we’re the aliens here; we want to make sure our understanding comes from a place of respect.  _ I _ want to make sure of it.” He looks up, abandoning his notes to meet Evfra’s eyes. They’re still so strange - white around the iris, their pupils so round. “We might not get everything right the first time, so we have to look to all the opportunities we can to be better.”

 

Reaching out, Evfra picks up the datapad and scrolls through the notes himself, skimming through a few pages. 

 

“... Did you really read the Arbiters’ lawbooks?” He flicks down a few more pages. “All of them?”

 

“It’s… a lot to pick through,” Ryder says, catching Evfra’s attention. The grimace on his face is the first emotion he’s seen there that isn’t all diplomatic placidity. “I’m still getting through the final chapters. The subsections are...”

 

“Tedious.”

 

“ _ Scrupulously _ detailed.”

 

Evfra snorts, setting the datapad back down. “So what do you want from me? Your research seems very… detailed as well.”

 

“But it’s only that. Research. I’m still an outsider. I don’t know your people like you do. And I don’t know the war like you do.”

 

It sounds like flattery again - albeit a strange kind of flattery. But there’s something sincere about the expression on his face that makes it difficult for Evfra to shut him down immediately. 

 

“There isn't one way to commemorate or to mourn. Or to celebrate, for that matter. We are not a homogeneous group, even if it might seem like that to an outsider.”

 

“I figured as much.” 

 

It’s a little unnerving, having someone yield instead of pushing back at every turn. It’s not what he expected after the Pathfinder. “We don’t all celebrate in a specific way, but… no, you’ll get no rhetoric about  _ starting from common ground _ from me.” The faint lines around Ryder’s eyes crease to fit his sparkling eyes. Of course he thinks they’re sharing a joke. Evfra’s apparently in a better mood than he’d thought. 

 

“I would never assume.”

 

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe that, coming from the Pathfinder’s brother.”

 

They tarry within the war room for an hour more, give or take, Ryder taking notes at whatever useful bits of information he can glean from Evfra’s stream of vitriol. Somehow they come to several decisions in the middle of their back-and-forth. The celebration will take place on Havarl, their sacred and beloved homeworld. There will be drink involved - Tavum of course, and several casks of very, very old alcohol from Milky Way, a priceless gift of rare supply.

 

“None of your people who took no part in the fight against the Kett,” Evfra insists when the subject of the guest list comes around. “None of your soft-handed dignitaries or civilians.”

 

“That’s acceptable,” Ryder nods, jotting it down. Evfra blinks and glances his way.

 

“That would include you, Interim Ambassador.”

  
Ryder exhales a quiet breath of amusement. “I’m comfortable with that.”

 

There are disagreements as well. Like the concept of guest of honor which, after Ryder explains it, seems ridiculous at best to Evfra. Possibly insulting. 

“They all fought and suffered the same losses. Why would one be more special than the other?” 

“I agree. But then who is going to make the…” Ryder looks down at a word on his pad. “I don’t know the translation for this. Speeches? Toasts?” 

“A remark before we drink to the fallen.” 

“A toast then,” Ryder says and makes a note of it on his pad. “How do you decide who's going to make those?”

Evfra leans back with a breath of impatience. It’s like explaining physics to an adhi. “You don’t plan for it. But mostly it’s elders. Or people who took an integral role in the fighting.” He sees the look on Ryder’s face and keeps going before he can interject. “That doesn’t mean they have more  _ honor _ than others.”

Ryder lets out a little sigh. “I think it’s just an unfortunate choice of words.” He swipes through a few pages on his pad. “Let’s pretend we would be planning for it. Who would be the most likely candidates? The Moshae, I assume?” 

Evfra gives him a few names. Some Ryder already seems to know. For others, Evfra gives him a short summary of their accomplishments during the war. When he’s finished, Ryder looks up from his pad.

“What about Jaal Ama Darav? He was there when the Archon was killed.” 

“I assume he’ll arrive with your sister,” Evfra says. “I take it she’s going to be invited to this.” 

The corner of Ryder’s lips ticks up. “She’s known to have killed a kett or two.” 

"And who will execute this thoughtful plan in your absence?" Evfra goads, if only out of habit. It backfires when Ryder's eyes lift meaningfully to his. "Not likely, Ambassador."

"I don't know. I trust you "

"Part of the job will be putting out your sister's fires," Evfra points out. "I can't be expected to host and - what?"

Ryder grins impishly at him. "I didn't expect you to pick up Earth idioms."

"What idiom?"

"Putting out my sister's fires?"

Evfra blinks slowly. "I take it you didn't hear about Elaaden's first moon. You're better off bestowing your... honors... on the Moshae."

In the end, Ryder has ignored nearly thirty pings on his comm, Evfra hedging fifty, but they part mostly satisfied - Ryder, because Evfra ticked nearly all of his boxes, and Evfra because he's fairly certain he's filled his quota for alien interaction for the season.


	2. Chapter 2

Evfra doesn’t hear from Ryder for a week. He almost feared he’d be calling on him with further questions and lists and demands but it seems like for the time being, he has all he needs to proceed with his planning.

 

Instead, Evfra receives two messages which are both irritating in their own ways.

 

The first comes from the Moshae, waiting at his terminal when he wakes up on the morning after his meeting with Ryder. She thanks him for his help, and while she doesn’t quite call it cooperation, it still irks him in a way he can’t quite put his finger on.

 

The second comes in the form of a report from Kadara hinting at the fact that the Pathfinder is on her way to Aya. An official notice is certain to shortly follow.

 

The Pathfinder visits Aya rarely, and that’s still too often for Evfra’s taste. Usually she’s busy sticking the Initiative’s flag into every piece of land she can get her feet on. When the Tempest does find its way to Aya, it usually means trouble. And a headache for Evfra. It takes him another two days to consider that perhaps she’s only coming to visit her brother.

 

There's always a stir at the Pathfinder's arrival. Unfortunate, in Evfra's opinion. She hardly needs a greater sense of grandiosity. He keeps hoping the city will settle it's tittering whenever the Tempest arrives, but as of yet, he's met with only disappointment.

 

But it isn't just her. The markets buzz with all the strange goods they're likely to part with from the arms of the smooth-talking turian. The museum prepares itself for the asari's pestering, prodding, drunkenness, or a combination of the three. The Tavetaan is bustling in preparation for their favorite aliens - the affable dark-skinned human and his hulking companion - on Evfra's way into work, and just inside, his people speculate the return of the quiet, sharp-eyed human woman with an almighty left hook.

 

And then, of course, there's Jaal's return. Evfra finds himself looking forward to this most of all. Sahuna sees Jaal more often than Evfra does these days - a blessing, and expected. He's no longer Evfra's to command. But that says nothing for Evfra's regard for him - his old right hand, his eyes and ears. They speak often enough, but it's a rare day he sees Jaal Ama Darav before him.

 

He watches him from afar, a bright spot of pink and blue among the aliens in their bland wardrobe. There’s something about the way he moves, so freely and relaxed, playfully shoving one of the humans walking beside him. He seems different since the end of the war.

 

If there’s one good thing about Ryder’s presence on Aya it’s that he seems to distract the Pathfinder long enough for her to refrain from bothering Evfra. He knows he’ll run into her sooner or later but for now he enjoys the peace and quiet.

 

Only Jaal pays him a visit later that afternoon. As expected, he comes bearing gifts. He knows Evfra doesn’t care for anything from the aliens, so he brings him a shiny deep-blue scale, almost as big as his palm.

 

“From a yevara,” he explains. “The ice of Voeld is slowly melting.”

 

A gift and a report in one.

 

“Thank you,” Evfra says and sets the scale down on his desk. The light from the window catches in the shiny surface, throwing specks of blue light on the walls and ceiling.  “As sentimental as ever, I see.”

 

Jaal’s eyes spark like he has something to say, but he purses his lips instead. Evfra can practically see him discarding a thought and drawing a new one. “The galaxy is becoming something wonderful, more wonderful than we have ever known.”

 

Folding his arms over his chest, Evfra starts, “If I have to listen to Milky Way propaganda before my mid-morning paste...”

 

Jaal laughs and rolls his shoulders back. They seem broader now that they shoulder a burden he _prefers_ to carry. “You must be accustomed to them now,” Jaal says with dancing eyes.

 

“Must I.”

 

“I hear from the Moshae you even work closely with our new friends now.”

 

Evfra narrows his eyes in search of the meaning behind this rumor before he starts. “ _One_ of them,” he says, voice devolving to a growl, “and it was only _once.”_

 

“You have my condolences,” Jaal says, his face a mockery of solemnity. “Most of them are really quite amusing.”

 

“If I wanted amusement, I’d find an adhi.”

 

Jaal nods. “You should do that, too.” He starts slowly walking through the room, looking at Evfra’s things, as if he hasn’t spent a significant portion of his life within these four walls. “We received the invitation to the celebration on Havarl a few days ago.”

 

“‘We’, meaning…”

 

Jaal turns his head. “The whole crew of the Tempest, yes.”

 

Evfra scoffs. “I made it clear you were to receive an individual invitation.”

 

“I did. There’s no need to scowl.”

 

They’re veering dangerously close to an old argument. “You’ll excuse me if I’m not thrilled at the thought of commemorating our losses with aliens.”

 

“Don’t worry. Nobody thought you would be.” Jaal doesn’t seem half as exasperated as Evfra thought he’d be. “And it sounded like a very angaran celebration to me.”

 

“Of course. I made sure of that.”

 

A foolish oversight. Jaal turns, regarding him curiously. _“You_ made sure of it?”

 

Put out, Evfra masks his disappointment with the slip by fiddling with his comm. “Told you, didn’t I?” he grumbles. “I worked with an alien. Once.”

 

“To plan a party?”

 

Evfra glares over at Jaal, who cannot hide his bemusement, even behind his monolens.

 

“To coordinate a memorial event for our fallen. Are you through interrogating me, or will I have to throw you on another alien ship to get you off my back?”

 

Jaal smiles and comes closer to clasp Evfra hard on the shoulder. “A single step is still a step, Evfra De Tershaav.”

 

Evfra blanches.

 

“A lecture instead. For that, I’ll throw you over the parapet.”

 

Jaal’s smile only widens. “And of all humans you could have worked with, you chose the Pathfinder’s brother. She’ll be thrilled to hear it.”

 

“Why would she -”

 

“When she comes over for a visit.”

 

Evfra groans. He wonders sometimes what horrible things he must have done in his past life to have to suffer like this now.

 

“I didn’t choose him,” he says and picks up a datapad from his desk like he suddenly remembers he still has a mountain of work to get through before lunch. “He chose me.”

 

He can see the surprise on Jaal’s face from the corner of his eye.

 

“A purely political choice,” Evfra adds quickly.

 

“Of course,” Jaal says. “I never would have assumed anything else. Even though you are so… approachable.”

 

“I would hope not.”

 

Jaal pats him again. “That is sarcasm. I’ve been practicing.”

 

“Stars above, that’s what we really need,” Evfra mutters, reaching up to clasp briefly at Jaal’s elbow in return before knocking his hand away. “Now leave me in peace. And take your Pathfinder with you.”

 

“I promise you nothing, my friend,” Jaal affably returns, before he inclines his head - such a human gesture - and departs.

 

The rest of the day passes in relative peace, though Evfra is constantly braced for impact. Several of his people file out early for a night at the Tavetaan, and Evfra allows it. Aside from routine sweeps, there’s little more to be done at this time of evening.

 

There’s always a certain sense of elation in the city whenever the Tempest lies at the dock, like people are suddenly reminded of the victory over the kett all over again. Knowing it’s because of the Pathfinder leaves a sour taste in Evfra’s mouth but he can’t deny his people this happiness - whatever the source of it may be.

 

It’s a warm night, the air heady with the smell of flowers and the sound of laughter and music somewhere in the distance. Nowadays it’s difficult to step outside and not come upon some alien but now the streets are almost empty, save for a few guards on their posts. Surely most people are somewhere celebrating, reveling in whatever stories and goods came to town with the Tempest.

 

It’s a welcome change for once. Almost like the city used to look before the Pathfinder first stepped out of her ship. Deep down he knows it’s an unfair thought, and one the Moshae would certainly not approve of. Many things were different before the Pathfinder came.

 

It’s almost startling then when he walks around a corner and nearly bumps into Ryder. He’s leaning against the railing, overlooking Aya below. For a moment Evfra thinks he can avoid being seen, but it’s no use. Ryder turns his head and spots him.

 

“Evfra,” he says and straightens up, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Good evening.”

 

“Ambassador.”

 

“I just needed some fresh air,” Ryder says as if Evfra had asked for an explanation. Even in the dim light, he can see the flush on neck and cheeks and his smile, far too warm to be just polite. He’s been drinking. Evfra takes a precursory glance around. Laying rest to his fears, the Pathfinder is nowhere to be seen. Surely, even for humans, it would be strange to abandon one’s brother after so long apart.

 

“Havarl is better suited for fresh air,” Evfra says, glancing over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps approaching, unbridled laughter. But it’s only a pair of asari - the Pathfinder still nowhere to be seen.

 

Ryder doesn’t seem to have heard him, or perhaps with a bit of drink in him he’s learned to ignore Evfra, sagging heavily against the parapet. In the distance, gold-hot magma lights up the earth, the lush green of Aya’s forests otherwise lost to darkness. Ryder sighs with all of his body. “It’s so nice out,” he murmurs, hands planted on white stone, elbows locked to keep him upright. “Aya’s so… beautiful.”

 

“It is,” Evfra stiffly agrees, and takes a step away, and then another. Ryder hardly seems aware of him, and surely he isn’t expected to keep watch over the interim ambassador. His arms might wobble under him, but should he tumble over the edge, there will always be another.

 

“I would love to see it someday.” Ryder sighs again and sways a little to the side. “Are the forests as nice as they look from up here?”

 

Evfra takes another step, more hesitant before stopping. How did he manage to be caught in a conversation with the ambassador?

 

“They are,” he says, hoping Ryder will become too distracted by the view to notice him leaving. Instead, Ryder turns around to face him, with enough vigor to almost make him lose his balance. He sways, the realization that he’s going to fall dawning on his face, and Evfra instinctively takes a step towards him before he can stop himself. But before he can do anything to embarrass himself, Ryder’s hand shoots out and holds on to the railing, steadying himself.

 

“Oh,” Ryder says and blinks a couple of times before focusing on Evfra again. “I… would like to see it all. But you don’t like when I leave the city.” It doesn’t sound like an accusation, even though it comes with something that almost looks like a pout.

 

“I don’t.” It’s bad enough to have aliens roam the city so freely. There’s no need to have them trample around the rest of the planet. Not that it’s really Evfra’s call to make. As far as he knows, no one in charge shares his opinion on the matter. That Ryder would be aware of it at all is a little surprising.  

 

Ryder stands up, thinking better of trying to lean against the parapet again and moving over to prop himself against a beam instead. “That’s alright. I’ve got…” He gestures with his hand, as though struggling for a word. “- duties. I’m occupied. No danger here. Of trampling.”

 

Why isn’t he being looked after by his sister?

 

“Why isn’t your sister looking after you?” Evfra never was one to keep his thoughts to himself. Ryder snorts.

 

“I’m not a child,” he says, bubbling with strange laughter. “I don’t need to be looked after.”

 

“Sound logic, until you fall to your death.” A crooked grin lifts one corner of Ryder’s mouth. “Is that funny to you? Your own gruesome death?”

 

Ryder snickers outright at that. “Lots of things are funny with _just enough_ Tavum.”

 

Evfra’s never gotten drunk with aliens. But he has with fairly small and somewhat scrawny angara, which he figures probably leads to the same result.

 

“It’s not going to be very funny for whoever has to scrape you off the pavement in the morning.”

 

“Or for whoever has to deal with the paperwork after…” He seems to seriously consider this as he’s once again swaying dangerously despite leaning against the beam. Ryder huffs, the effect of it going missing completely when it turns into more of a hiccup. “I’m fine. Perfectly capable.” He looks up and down the street as if deciding in which direction to stumble. “I just need to find my…”

 

“Apartment?”

 

“Bed.”

 

“I would hope the two were connected.”

 

Evfra only has a vague idea of where Ryder has been staying this past month and he has no desire to help him get there in any way. But he also knows that at least some of the paperwork would end up on his desk if Ryder fell to his death or, even worse, caused some kind of intergalactic incident by falling asleep in a flowerbed and missing some important morning meeting. Not to mention that this would definitely mean having to deal with his sister.

 

He wonders if humans have a turn of phrase for an irritation so exceptional it borders on a cranial ache.

 

"Come on, then," he says, nodding toward the street. Ryder blinks at him from the beam.

 

"Come on?"

 

Evfra folds his arms over his chest. "Damn shame. Looks like an unexpected side effect of Tavum in humans is addled hearing."

 

The tip of Ryder's tongue touches his upper lip before he grins and pushes away from the beam. "There's no need to be rude. It's not every day an alien gets the star treatment from General De Tershaav."

 

Wretched idioms. "If I wanted to burn through your atmosphere, you'd know," he grumbles, waving Ryder down the path.

 

Ryder laughs at that, a sound that ends in another hiccup. Evfra regrets all the decisions that have led him to this moment in time.

 

Despite his obvious problems standing still without falling over, Ryder manages to walk with only a little swaying and just a little slower than his short human legs would account for. A stroke of luck in this misery since Evfra detests curbing his pace for anyone, especially inebriated aliens.

 

Evfra considers himself lucky again when they make it through the market district without running into anyone. The only thing that could have made this whole thing worse would have been having to deal with _gossip._ Perhaps it’s later in the evening than he thought but the streets are deserted. The only people they see are the two asari from earlier but they’re tucked away in a corner of the market and two busy with each other to notice Evfra and Ryder.

 

Ryder looks up when their laughter carries over the plaza and his cheeks darken before he fixes his eyes on the ground again - which is probably for the best. Evfra doesn’t feel like picking him up from the ground if he should stumble over his own feet.

 

“You’re embarrassed by open affection.”

 

Startled to have been caught, Ryder nearly bumps into Evfra as he stares up toward him. “I’m - no, it’s not like… it’s not embarrassment. Maybe.” He takes one particularly long stride and only just catches himself when he stumbles. “Maybe a little? That kind of thing is more, um. Private, for humans. Sometimes. God, maybe it’s just me. Am I embarrassed by open affection?”

 

“If you’re about to have an identity crisis, I’d prefer you do it after I've left.”

 

“Yeah.” Ryder cringes. “I don’t blame you.”

 

He falls back into his own thoughts after that, for which Evfra is grateful. As for himself, he makes certain to move past thoughts of the ambassador and trysts in dark corners as quickly as possible.

 

Abruptly, not five minutes later, Ryder veers to the left toward a narrow set of stairs leading up to an alcove beyond the governor’s offices. At the top is a door leading, presumably, to Ryder’s apartment. Boxes spilling over with cheerfully-colored blossoms line the windows on either side, too high up for Evfra to see inside were he so inclined. Halfway up the steps, Ryder turns, gripping the white stone slab bracketing the stairs.

 

“Thank you for walking me home, in spite of… you know.” For some reason, he taps the side of his nose. “I promise not to tell anyone you’re actually pretty kind.”

 

“I resent the accusation,” Evfra says but can’t quite muster up any heat behind it. Judging by Ryder’s smile, he can tell. “I trust you’ll find your way inside without falling over and dying after all?”

 

Ryder searches his own pockets for a moment before pulling out a keycard and holding it up like some hard-earned prize. “Hah!” He gives Evfra a smile that’s all teeth and only a little drunken swaying. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“Good.” He’d hate to have gone through all this trouble only to find out about the ambassador’s untimely demise in the morning.

 

Ryder turns around and carefully makes his way up the rest of the stairs. Evfra takes a step back already but stops at the bottom and waits until Ryder has managed to open his front door. After all, he’s gone along with it so far.

 

Ryder gives him a jaunty little wave goodbye before going inside and closing the door behind him. Not a minute later, the light in the window to the left goes on, shining warmly into the dark of the night. And Evfra realizes he’s been standing down here and staring up the stairs for far too long.

  
That’s easily twenty minutes of his life he’ll never get back. He’ll take time to be properly irked about it in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

To Evfra’s relief, the Pathfinder doesn’t once make an appearance at the Resistance headquarters. The Tempest takes off only a few days after it arrives, and he sees neither hide nor hair of Aya’s harbinger of discord. Things go back to normal easily enough, and every day, bit by bit they chip away at the remaining Kett stragglers. Evfra enjoys a week of relative peace before the racket of boot steps clip across his floor. 

 

Why can’t aliens just go barefoot like normal people.

 

“Evfra.” He turns from… admittedly very little on his comm, toward his guest. Apparently, the guards have just given up at this point.

 

“Ambassador,” he returns. “I have no patience for party planning at the moment."

 

"Hmm?" Ryder takes a moment to look up from his datapad. "Oh. No, this is - this is something else. Mostly. Look." He gets right up in Evfra's space, flicking over the screen to show him...

 

"Pamphlet covers?"

 

Ryder brightens. "I told you I was condensing your laws into more accessible guidelines? Well, when I was organizing my notes, I realized that certain customs were specific to particular jobs and scenarios and I thought: why try to make one almanacish superguide when I could divide to target specific demographics? Civilian versus military, merchantile versus political - that sort of thing."

 

Evfra blinks, stunned for a moment. “That sounds… time-consuming.” 

 

“It was.” Ryder looks up at him, expectantly like he’s waiting for more of a reaction. 

 

“And… efficient?” 

 

It wasn’t really meant as a compliment but Ryder flashes him a bright smile anyway. 

 

“Thank you!” He pulls back the datapad and finally takes a step away. 

 

Evfra moves to bring the safety of his desk between them again. “And here I thought you’d be busy planning that party of yours.”

 

“Not mine,” Ryder says, his smile never faltering. “Ours. And I finished most of the preparations for that last week.” 

 

Evfra scoffs. “And you didn’t think it was necessary to run them by one of our people? Do I need to remind you, those are not your traditions?” 

 

“Oh no, I was planning on sending you my notes later today. The first draft of these pamphlets as well, if that's alright?” 

 

“That's not what I -”

 

“Your critique was really helpful last time. I appreciate the… honesty.” 

 

Evfra laughs. The sound is out of his mouth before he can stop it and judging by the look on Ryder’s face he’s just as surprised by it as he is. 

 

"You're making more work for me, Ambassador."

 

Ryder rolls a shoulder, his expression perfectly placid. A diplomat's smile. "I think you like work."

 

Evfra huffs another laugh, scooping the datapad out of Ryder's hands. "Astute, for a human." He sends the work over to himself to get it over with and hands the tablet back. "Is that all?"  

 

"Actually -"

 

"My mistake. That wasn't an invitation to continue."

 

" - the sections on your military were fairly sparse, and mainly formalities." Ryder gestures to Evfra and then himself. "I'd like to get more... useful information, when you have the time."

 

Evfra narrows his eyes. A grudging part of him respects the confidence it takes to ignore Evfra's petulance. Another more vocal part despairs that Ryder feels comfortable enough to be so confident. "With any luck, the merging of our militaries will delve no further than sparse formalities."

 

For the first time in his acquaintanceship with Ryder, he sees his face go taut with unease. The repertoire they've built seems to grind to a halt, and for a split second Evfra has to wonder why this, above all else, tipped the scales of Ryder's displeasure. 

 

Soon enough, Ryder's expression smooths out, though the lines around his eyes remain tight. "I wish... for different reasons than yours, I wish that were true. But the Kett..." He glances toward the window. "We escaped a terrible evil in our galaxy, and landed here just before another annihilated yours. The universe is vast, but... not that vast. We need each other." He looks back at Evfra with his strange round pupils, grimace softening into something wry. 

 

"We're wiping the rest of the Kett out together," Evfra allows, disallowing himself from feeling too chastised. Ryder has spent too much time with the Moshae.

 

"But not all of them."

 

Evfra doesn't know what to do with that. It appears he doesn't need to. Ryder straightens, tapping at his datapad before he's back to himself. "So. We should work together to build a unified front. I'd like your help."

 

“Alright,” Evfra hears himself say before he can think of an excuse in his mind. 

 

Ryder’s smile isn’t as bright as it usually is but it’s genuine. “Thank you.” He looks at his datapad. “I have a few openings in my schedule this week. Mostly in the evenings. Would tomorrow night work for you?” 

 

Evfra knows his schedule by heart but takes a look at his terminal just to have something to look at that isn’t Ryder’s face. “Fine by me.” 

 

“I think at some point it would be a good idea for you to talk to Kandros, the leader of the Nexus militia. But I’d like to be able to give him this information first.” Ryder smiles. “It should be less work for you eventually.”

 

“I doubt that.” 

 

"Even so."

 

Ryder leaves amicably enough, but Evfra can't help but feel somewhat displaced. He's always worked well under duress, but this is something else. He doesn't like it when the Moshae instills it in him; it irks him all the more that in this moment, it's inspired by an alien.

 

So he buries it and carries on with his duties, just as he always has.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He has Tavum, because... no, he doesn't know why. Something in the pit of his gut made him pick a bottle from his personal stash that morning, and keep it in his periphery all through the day until the closest star sinks beyond the horizon. When Ryder comes through the door, Evfra refuses to hesitate. He holds the bottle out to the ambassador, who slowly reaches out to accept it.

 

"I really am here to work, you know," Ryder says with a funny look.

 

“And we will.” 

 

“I thought you didn’t really care for me last time I had too much of this stuff,” Ryder says and puts his datapad down on Evfra’s desk. His cheeks darken ever so slightly. Evfra made a point not to discuss the night he took Ryder home afterwards but now he thinks Ryder might have been too embarrassed to talk about it anyway. 

 

“Believe me, Tavum did not change my opinion of you.” 

 

Ryder laughs and it almost sounds a little relieved. “For the end of the work day then?”

 

“Technically, the end has already come,” Evfra says, ignoring the way Ryder raises his eyebrow. “You said there was an opening in your schedule. Overtime isn’t really an opening.” 

 

“As far as I know you’re no stranger to that yourself.” He looks down at the bottle and then back at Evfra. “Are you hiding any glasses, or do you prefer it straight from the bottle?”

 

Dry laughter rattles through Evfra’s chest. “You drink that straight, I won’t be held responsible. Only a fool or a child would try it.”

 

“I don’t see any fruit juice,” Ryder says. With a little more bite in his tone, Evfra might be tempted to call this banter. He nods toward the far side of the room toward a water dispenser affixed to the stone wall. 

 

“Hot water there.”

 

Ryder makes a face. 

 

“Careful, Ambassador,” says Evfra. “You walk the thin line of cultural taboo.”

 

Ryder’s eyebrows go up. He shakes his finger at Evfra. “The day the angaran people declare war on us over a matter of taste is the day I pretend to enjoy watery Tavum.”

 

When Evfra fetches two cups, though, he accepts one - watery as it is - and adds a splash of Tavum with Evfra. 

 

The work is, of course, questions, and then more questions. If there’s one thing the Ryder twins can’t seem to get their fill of, it’s poking through Evfra’s limited, highly opinionated banks of knowledge.

 

There’s less sarcasm with this Ryder, however, which Evfra can appreciate. He takes more notes instead, scribbling down small details as Evfra talks. The longer they work, the more interested Ryder seems to become, leaning forward in his chair until it almost looks like he’s about to fall out of it. 

 

Evfra is amused to find that the flush he saw on Ryder’s face when he found him drunk in the street wasn’t a sign of advanced inebriation but rather a side effect even the smallest bit of Tavum seems to have on him in general. They’re hardly a whole glass in when some color starts creeping into his cheeks. 

 

Ryder doesn’t seem to notice but a short while later takes off his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, clearly feeling the warmth of the Tavum. 

 

“Sorry,” he says as he picks up this datapad again. “You were telling me about provision stocking on Voeld?” 

 

Evfra nods, trying to pick up where they left off. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen the ambassador in anything but proper attire... which is a thought he desperately doesn’t want to linger on. 

 

By the time half the bottle's gone, the night has gone with it. To Evfra's surprise, the conversation didn't once turn intimate. No questions about his personal life were peppered within the ruse of honest work in some misguided attempt to get to know him as the Pathfinder was wont to do.

 

At the bottom of his fourth cup, Ryder smothers a yawn with the back of his hand. Evfra's no stranger to pulling late nights, but the Tavum's put him in a good mood, and there's no pressing need to keep them going. He stands, sealing the bottle.

 

"That's enough for tonight."

 

Ryder nods in agreement, tapping away a few final notes as Evfra tidies the desk.

 

“Thank you for this,” Ryder says as he gets up. “And for the Tavum.” 

 

“I trust you’ll find your way home by yourself this time?” 

 

Ryder smiles. “I think I’m quite familiar with the way from and to your office by now.” 

 

“A troubling thought.” Perhaps it’s the late hour or perhaps it’s the Tavum but it doesn’t come out half as sincere as he intended it to be. 

 

As Ryder gathers up his things and puts his jacket back on, Evfra realizes he has nothing to keep him in his office. For a short moment, he considers waiting for Ryder to leave and then some before heading home himself, just to avoid making it seem like he was walking him out. But there’s a difference between keeping a sensible distance between himself and an alien and being just plain childish. 

 

Fortunately, Ryder doesn’t do as much as raise an eyebrow when he notices Evfra getting ready to leave with him. Evfra is fairly certain the Pathfinder never would have let him live this down. 

 

It’s another pleasant warm night with a clear sky full of stars and the streets once again almost completely empty. 

 

Ryder only sways a little as he walks, and Evfra has to wonder if he’s a little better at holding his Tavum than he’d thought.

 

“You know,” Ryder says, interrupting himself with another yawn. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen unpleasant weather here.”

 

“It’s rare,” Evfra agrees, nodding toward a patrolling officer as they pass in the opposite direction. “This part of Aya is exceptionally mild.”

 

“Hmm. Sometimes there are storms in the distance, but they’re…”

 

“Distant.”

 

Ryder snickers a little at the completely humorless observation, and something about that strikes Evfra as incredibly funny. He doesn’t laugh, though. One of them needs some control.

 

“When was the last time you left?” Ryder ponders, reaching a hand out to touch a protruding beam of stone. He hadn’t looked like he was going to lose his balance, but maybe Evfra isn’t looking close enough. He considers ignoring the question, but it’s a notion quickly discarded.

 

“I was on Meridian for the final battle,” Evfra grunts. “And after.”

 

Ryder shoots him a curious glance, faster than soft swaying suggested. Evfra doesn’t quite know what to make of the look on his face but as quickly as it came, it’s gone again. 

 

“I haven’t been back since I came here. It still feels…” He makes a vague gesture with his hand like he’s trying to pick the right word out of thin air. 

 

“Real?”

 

Ryder nods. “Yes, I think that’s it.” He almost stops, his hand resting on a stone beam for a moment longer than necessary. “It’s amazing, of course. The technology alone. But there’s something… artificial about it. Not like all of this.” He points towards the dark horizon with its hills and tree tops.

 

“I didn’t take you for a romantic, Ambassador,” Evfra says. 

 

“Really?” 

 

He grunts. “Hm. Perhaps I had an inkling.”

 

Ryder takes the teasing with a little smile and pushes himself off the beam. 

 

When they reach the steps of Ryder’s apartment, Ryder takes the first step. Even then, he’s not quite at Evfra’s height, but it’s closer than he’s ever managed before. “Are you free next week, same time?” he asks, patting the datapad under his arm. 

 

“Next week.”

 

“What, too soon for your liking?”

 

The corners of Ryder’s eyes crease with his poor joke. 

 

“I was hoping to get it over with as soon as possible,” Evfra says, if only to dislodge the weight of Ryder’s expectations. The ambassador snorts, ascending another step. Backwards. Evfra always did take him for a fool. 

 

“I’m not only working on a guide for the armed forces, you know? I’m a busy man.”

 

Evfra hopes his silence is wry enough to illustrate his feelings on the matter. “Get to bed, Ambassador.”

 

Ryder takes another step, now slightly taller than Evfra. “I’ll bring the drinks next time.”

 

Evfra makes a face which only makes Ryder smile a little wider. “I think I’ll stick to Tavum.” 

 

“Watery Tavum.” Ryder sighs. “Alright then.” 

 

Evfra watches him climb the stairs again, even though he is pretty sure there’s no danger of him tumbling to his death this time. He gets another jaunty little wave at the door and afterwards makes his way home, a strange buzz somewhere deep in his bones.


	4. Chapter 4

“You brought fruit juice.” Ryder stares at the bottle next to the Tavum as Evfra prepares his drink. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“For me?”

 

Evfra glances at his data pad. “It will keep you from complaining.”

 

Ryder smiles and takes off his jacket. “I see. For purely selfish reasons.” 

 

He takes the offered cup and takes a sip before settling down in his chair. He lets out a little sigh and allows himself a second sip before pulling out his datapad. 

 

Quite frankly, Evfra is surprised that Ryder found the time for their weekly meeting at all. With their departure to Havaral less than a week away, the ambassador’s schedule must be completely full. Evfra doesn’t allow himself to stare for too long but… he looks tired. A little paler than usual. He half expected him to cancel their meeting but here he is, sitting in his usual spot and drinking Evfra’s Tavum.

 

He doesn’t drink nearly as much as the week before, and he does it far more slowly. All business. Evfra can respect that. 

 

Still.

 

“You’re in a hurry,” Evfra notes after an hour passes with no banter between them. Ryder glances up from where he’s hunched over his notes, subtly correcting his posture. 

 

“Maybe a little,” he confesses, running a hand over his scalp. “I have a lot to do in the next few days.”

 

When he offers nothing further, Evfra tops up his juice. “Such as?”

 

A gust of air leaves Ryder’s pursed lips before he laughs. “You’re not interested in my workload.” At Evfra’s sharp look, he dips his head. “Yeah, yes, you did ask. I’d like to get my basic guide for angaran customs out before people come together for this event, but I’m leaving to help set things up on Havarl in five days, and the Tempest is set to land on Aya in two. That’s… likely to set things back a bit.”

 

“Ah,” Evfra says and puts his own pad down. “Your sister.” 

 

Ryder’s smile is a little tired. “Among many others.” 

 

“You have collected a great deal of material for this guide. Can’t you cut it down to the basics for this event? Only the… relevant details.” 

 

Ryder watches him for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.” 

 

Evfra could berate him. Technically, it's Ryder’s own fault for taking on so much work and for his frustrating attention to detail. Instead, he just sighs. “Send me what you have so far and I’ll take a look.”

 

“I couldn’t -”

 

“I offered,” Evfra says sharpy. “Don’t make me overthink it.” 

 

Ryder opens his mouth to protest but closes it again and finally nods. “Thank you.” 

 

“Don’t mention it.” Evfra picks up his pad. “I mean it.”

 

Ryder does send it to him later that night, after their… collaborative effort is done, and Evfra’s walked him home. He’s man enough to admit that’s what this is, even as it exasperates him that the third time signifies  _ routine. _ It’s… a lot.

 

They’re thoughtful notes, and not entirely as scattered as Evfra feared. He looks them over after washing and settling in bed himself. There’s clearly some sort of organizing in play, though the attempt is rudimentary at best.

 

Evfra spends the next two days picking over the essentials for the memorial and sending them off to Ryder in groups. Each time he does, the thanks overflow. Evfra doesn’t need them, but he certainly doesn’t mind them.

 

It seems his tolerance has grown for quite a lot of things.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s always good to be back on Aya.

 

Jaal doesn’t know that he’d call it home anymore, but it comes very, very close. He feels relief at the Shelesh spoken all around him, and in the familiar shapes and faces of his people.

 

And even though he loves being on the Tempest, it’s nice to have fresh air to breathe. Or air that isn’t freezing cold, or dry like sandpaper, or reeking of Kadara.

 

The Pathfinder’s first stop is her brother’s office, of course, and Jaal gives them the space and time they deserve. It’s only after he’s taken care of a few of his own errands and has visited the Moshae that he starts feeling that familiar pull. 

 

He thinks it mustn’t technically count as checking up on someone if one truly enjoys the time spent together. 

 

Ryder’s office is a mess and for once, Jaal is fairly certain it has nothing to do with his sister stopping by before him. There are boxes everywhere and inexplicable piles of datapads on his desk. The room is cut in half by a large glass wall that Ryder seems to use to organize something that could very well come straight from the brain of a madman. At first glance, Jaal recognizes mostly seating charts and timetables. 

 

Ryder himself stands behind his desk, his brow furrowed as he reads something on his terminal. He looks up when he hears Jaal enter. 

 

“Jaal!” He’s around the table before Jaal has even taken another step. “What a nice surprise.” 

 

Ryder’s smile seems genuine but Jaal isn’t sure if it actually is a nice surprise, judging by the piles of work around him. “Is this a bad time? You look…” Exhausted. “Busy.”  

 

Deflating a little, Ryder concedes to his point, leaning back against his desk. “I am,” he admits, gesturing toward the chaotic room. “But I like being busy. Keeps me - busy.”

 

They share a little smile before Jaal perks up, patting the vest under his Rofjinn. “Ah - I have something for you. We were on Eos -”

 

“The samples I wanted!” A new energy seems to fill Ryder as he pushes away from the desk, eagerly cupping his hands around the vial of seeds Jaal managed to harvest. It had been difficult to find the exact subspecies Ryder was hoping to find - some sort of desert plant that bore fruit of a similar taste to an Earth berry - but Jaal relished in a challenge. And it made his friend happy. Ryder looks up from the seeds tamped down in Eos soil, his tired face beaming. “Jaal, I can’t thank you enough.”

 

“I would do it again,” he says solemnly, “even though my gloves were irreparably stained.”

 

“I’ll replace them.”

 

“I already have.”

 

Ryder reaches out, touching his elbow briefly. “It’s so good to see you. I’m glad you stopped by.”

 

“So am I.” He takes a seat on the desk next to Ryder, the space small enough that their thighs brush while he makes himself comfortable. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

 

Ryder pushes some of the things on his desk to the side to make space for his seeds. “Don’t be silly. You’re not here to work.” 

 

“Helping a friend can hardly be considered work.” 

 

Ryder’s laugh is a sweet and bright thing, even when he’s fused with stress. “A poetic sentiment. But I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.” He gives him a conspiratorial smile. “And there’s a system.” 

 

“Is all this for the celebration on Havarl?” Jaal asks, recognizing a map of the landing site on Ryder’s desk. “I didn’t know you were the one who organized it.” 

 

“I wasn’t originally. But it just... worked out that way.”  

 

Jaal can tell there’s more to the story but he’s not one to pry. Instead, he picks up one of the datapads in front of him. “What’s this?” 

 

Ryder takes a quick look at the pad. “It’s a guide I’ve been working on. On angaran customs. Just something to make the event and hopefully everything afterwards run a little more smoothly.” 

 

Jaal swipes through some of the pages. If this is what Ryder has been spending his time with, it’s no wonder that he looks so tired. “It’s… extensive.” 

 

“Thank you.” Ryder smiles. “I had help.” 

 

“Mh. The Moshae cares for you. Of course she would support your efforts.”

 

“The Moshae - oh.” Ryder grins. “I didn’t bother her too much about it. She’s pretty busy herself.”

 

Jaal scrolls up the log to see a thread of correspondence between Ryder and - 

 

“Evfra?” He turns to face Ryder more fully. “You’ve been collaborating with Evfra de Tershaav.” He counts the logs.  _ “Extensively.”  _

 

“I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone how helpful he was,” Ryder says, folding his hands in his lap. “Or was it kind? Either way: whoops.”

 

It’s to the credit of Ryder’s presence, Jaal knows. That’s the purpose of his ambassadorial efforts; to build bridges and create friendships between the angara and the Milky Way pioneers. Jaal hands the datapad back. “You are very good at your job.” 

 

“Thank you.” Ryder laughs. “Although I fear that particular success had little to do with my skills as ambassador.” 

 

There’s something about the way he says it that makes Jaal… wonder. 

 

“I will try not to tease him too much about it.” 

 

“That would be best, I think.” Ryder picks up a datapad and scrolls through a report, only stopping to make a short note, almost absentmindedly. 

 

Jaal taps his finger against the side of his own pad, trying not to stare at Ryder while he works. “I’m surprised he agreed to come to Havarl in the first place.” 

 

“Oh, that was the first discussion we had,” Ryder says without looking up. “We came up with a good compromise, I think.” 

 

Things are just getting stranger and stranger. _Evfra_ and _compromise_ aren’t exactly two things Jaal ever would have expected to be used in the same notion. “Yes,” he agrees, thoughtful. “You did. And many more besides.”


	5. Chapter 5

 

They talk about work for a while - the things Jaal has been up to with the Pathfinder, the overflowing communication between the Nexus outposts, Meridian, and Aya. Jaal knows this wasn’t Ryder’s true calling, though he takes the mantle admirably. It was a duty he trained for, though his passion lay in the scientific field. 

 

Jaal knows a thing or two about setting one’s passion aside for the sake of duty. The seedlings are the least he can do, for now.

 

“Oh,” Ryder suddenly says and closes the current tab on his datapad only to pull up a new one. “While I have you here. I wondered if I could ask you another favor.” 

 

“Anything.” 

 

Ryder ducks his head and smiles. “Who knows what I’ll ask you to do next.” 

 

“I assume it has something to do with local flora?” 

 

“Am I that predictable?” Ryder shows him the picture of a large plant whose branches hang heavy with wide magenta blossoms. “I hear this one is native to Aya but I haven’t seen it anywhere.” 

 

Jaal takes the datapad and studies the picture for a moment. “I know it. I don’t know the name but I’ve seen it many times before. It is not native to Aya, however.” 

 

“It’s not?” Ryder doesn’t even try to hide his disappointment. 

 

“You might find a few further south but you’d have better luck on Havarl.” He hands the datapad back to him. “So you might be able to get your hands on it yourself this time.”

 

“I fear I won’t have much time for anything but work while we’re there.” 

 

“I’m happy to accompany you if you do.” 

 

Ryder sighs and takes a last look at the picture before closing the tab. “I’m flying back to Aya the day after you arrive, so I doubt we’ll get the chance. But thank you.” 

 

That... doesn't add up. "The party doesn't begin until two days after we land."

 

"Right." Ryder sounds distracted, hopping off the desk to set the tablet aside. He tucks the seed sample away in a rucksack hanging by the door - presumably for further analysis at home. 

 

"Then why will you be departing Havarl the day before?"

 

Ryder peers over his his shoulder with a grin. "Will you miss me?"

 

"Yes," Jaal answers. "But that is not my point."

 

Ryder turns back to his bag. Jaal may be wrong, but he doesn't seem to be doing anything of note with it. When he speaks, he offers with flippancy, "It was important to keep the guest list strict. I didn't put myself on it."

 

"You - what?" Jaal blinks, standing up. "What list could be so strict that the coordinator does not attend?"

 

Turning, Ryder's face is perfectly neutral down to his smile. "Plenty of them," he says, like he's teasing Jaal. "It's not a problem. I have a lot of work to do."

 

Jaal looks at the piles of it on his desk. “All the more reason you should enjoy the fruits of your labor.” 

 

“Jaal.” There’s something unyielding in Ryder’s voice, mirrored in the look he gives him across the room. He’s never looked more like his sister. “It’s fine.” 

 

Jaal was never a good student. But that doesn’t mean he can’t put two and two together. Slowly, mercilessly, things fall into place. 

 

“Your  _ compromise _ ,” he says and watches Ryder avert his eyes. “This was part of it?” 

 

“This event is more important than my attendance."  


 

Jaal walks a few steps towards him but stops, suddenly uncertain. “But why wouldn’t you? Isn’t the point of this in celebrating our victory over the Archon?” 

 

“To honor our fallen.” 

 

“Yes, and that must be why only the dead will attend.” He takes another step despite the frown on Ryder’s face. “You deserve to be there. And I thought you said Evfra was helpful? Kind? Why would he… Hmh.” 

 

“Jaal…”

 

“He does not know what you have done.” 

 

Ryder’s face snaps back into perfect neutrality as he brushes a piece of non-existent lint off his sleeve and straightens his back. “No. And I would prefer that it stays that way.” 

 

This is something he must respect. It brings him to heel, though he makes no effort to hide his discontent. “My friend… please, reconsider.”

 

“There’s nothing to reconsider,” Ryder says, reaching out to pat Jaal’s forearm. Soothing. He’s trying to soothe Jaal. “I don’t mind, really.”

 

“I do.” Jaal stops Ryder's hand before he can retract it. “And so will your sister. We were there. We saw - heard what the Archon...” He squeezes Ryder’s wrist. “How he profaned you on Meridian.”

 

Grimacing, Ryder lifts his free hand to rub the side of his neck. “I already told her I wasn’t going. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to keep Evfra out of it; she likes to poke the bear on a good day.”

 

“If that is your wish, I will remain silent,” Jaal says, begrudging it already. Then, “What is a bear?”

 

Ryder laughs and some of the tension in his body goes with it. “An animal. Big and hairy. Very protective. Stubborn.” He brushes Jaal’s arm as he walks past him. “Reminds me of someone I know.” 

 

“Hairy?” 

 

“Yeah. Huh. A hairless bear.” 

 

Jaal sighs and watches Ryder from across the room as he sorts through the mess on his desk. He doesn’t like it, any of it. That Ryder would go through all he went through and people don’t even know. That Evfra doesn’t know. 

 

It’s not his story to tell. But he can’t help but feel… what exactly?

 

“If you tell him, he will understand.” The wry tilt to Ryder’s mouth pains him. “That is our way.”

 

Ryder fumbles with his things, and he won’t meet Jaal’s eyes. “I know. But I… it’s not something I like to revisit with my medics during assessments, much less,” his nose wrinkles, “to use to get into a party.”

 

“A memorial,” Jaal corrects, and Ryder nods. 

 

“A memorial. For battles I wasn’t in, and a depth of loss I couldn’t possibly understand. I can’t make this about me, Jaal.”

 

Jaal hums noncommittally. “It’s about what is right. We all lost something to the Archon. That includes you.”

 

A quiet curse hisses through Ryder’s teeth as a few metal components from the desk fall to the floor. He ducks down to sweep them up with trembling hands. “Can we - um. I’d like to change the subject.”

 

It hurts to see him like this, like a physical ache somewhere deep in his chest. Jaal takes a deep breath before stepping up to the desk and kneeling down to help him. Ryder doesn’t look at him. 

 

“I am sorry,” Jaal says. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I won’t speak of it again, if that is your wish.” 

 

Ryder takes a breath and nods before he stands up and straightens his clothes. “Thank you.” His voice is quiet but he finally looks him in the eyes again. 

 

Jaal can still see it sometimes, tied to a chair with that monster digging into his mind. Can still hear Ryder’s screams. So brave and not quite broken. He’s so much more than that image now. Layer upon layers of all the things that make him the man he is. But sometimes, Jaal can still see it when he looks at him. 

 

And sometimes, he thinks Ryder can tell. 

 

No wonder he doesn’t want Evfra to know. 

 

When Ryder has settled into easier conversation and the mid-afternoon light casts his office in white gold, Jaal nods toward him. “I know you have work to finish, so I won’t disturb you. But I’d like to stay.” 

 

Ryder’s lips part and then purse before he blows out a breath of amusement. “I don’t have anywhere for you to sit.”

 

“I’ll improvise.”

 

He opens the window behind Ryder and makes himself comfortable on the sill, and it takes very little time at all to watch the stages of Ryder forgetting his presence entirely. True to his word, Jaal keeps to himself, scrolling through his messages with the sweet scent of Ayan blossoms drifting up from Ryder’s flower boxes.

 

There really does seem to be a system to the chaos; Ryder has no trouble navigating through his devices even with his attention divided. 

 

Jaal wonders how long his office has looked like this as he watches him walking through the maze of boxes without even looking up from his tablet. It’s an almost funny sight, in an endearing way that settles somewhere deep in his chest. 

 

Ryder spends a great chunk of time standing in front of his plan with the seating arrangement, switching things back and forth several times while muttering to himself under his breath. From experience, Jaal knows that any plan of that sort will be obsolete as soon as the first round of Tavum is finished but he keeps his thoughts to himself. 

 

After the better part of an hour, Ryder lowers his datapad and sighs. He rolls his shoulders as if to get the stiffness out of them and looks over to where Jaal is still sitting on the window sill. 

 

“Would you care for a short walk? I have a meeting with the Moshae in a bit but I think a little fresh air would do me good.”

 

Jaal hops off the sill. “Are you alright?”

 

“Just a little headache.” He huffs a little when he sees Jaal’s face. “From working too much.” 

 

Jaal keeps an eye on him as they walk, regardless. He remembers well the time it took for Ryder to recover from the Archon’s defilement. The Pathfinder had treated Ryder like glass during the worst of his recovery, and even with Ryder’s patient and good-humored nature, it had clearly put a strain on their relationship. 

 

The fresh air does seem to do him a service; the light of the nearest blue dwarf in the late afternoon casts Ryder’s dark skin in a warm golden glow. He seems relaxed, wandering Aya’s streets. The angara of the city call out to them openly, some greeting Ryder with polite respect, some far more familiar in tone. 

 

A group of four ask if Ryder will be dropping by the Tavetaan later that evening, insisting that his company has been missed. They’re suitably disappointed when he turns the invitation down, and one of them - vaguely familiar, Aya police Jaal thinks - even tosses him a paripos.

 

It is good to see that he’s made friends that aren’t little more than colleagues here.

 

“You are well-liked,” he observes, accepting half of the paripos when Ryder tears the fleshy fruit down the middle.

 

“They have been very welcoming,” Ryder says, sounding almost a little embarrassed. He takes a bite out of the paripos. “It’s not the home I expected to find when I climbed into that cryo pod six-hundred years ago,” he says after a moment. “But I’m glad it’s the one we found.” 

 

“So am I.” In the grand scheme of things it hasn’t been that long since the Tempest first set down on Aya, but Jaal can’t imagine what his life would be like if the Milky Way settlers had never arrived. 

 

They sit down on a narrow bench near the market place. Ryder closes his eyes with a little sigh, turning his face towards the light of the star. Jaal tries not to stare but it’s difficult. Since joining the Pathfinder, he’s seen many humans in all shapes and sizes. But Ryder is still something else entirely. 

 

“Thank you for coming with me,” Ryder says without opening his eyes. Jaal quickly turns his attention to the fruit in his hands. “I needed a little break.” 

 

“I know the feeling.” Lathoul likes paripos so much more than Jaal does, but the company he’s in makes it almost sweet enough to suit his tastes. “It is good to be in the company of a friend who isn’t asking me to shoot at things.”

 

“Well,” Ryder points out, slowly opening his eyes to take a bite of the paripos flesh, “you are pretty good at shooting things.”

 

“I am also very good at poetry. Why does your sister never ask me to write?”

 

Ryder snickers with a mouthful of fruit and sucks the juice off his fingertips once he’s swallowed. “Come work with me instead. You can write as much poetry as you like, and I’ll only ask you to shoot things every other day.”

 

“Tempting.”

 

“I’m afraid I have a little less excitement to offer than she does,” Ryder says. “Just for honesty’s sake.” 

 

“No political intrigue?”

 

“There isn’t much room for intrigue with your people.” Ryder grins. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but they are usually very straightforward.” 

 

With a little laugh, Jaal pops the last bit of fruit into his mouth. Ryder sighs. “In any case, I’m sure my sister wouldn’t be all that thrilled if I poached you right from under her nose.” 

 

Jaal laughs. He’d be lying if he said he never thought about it - returning to Aya after the war. Even if just for a short while. But he’s doing good. The Pathfinder is doing good. Even with the number of kett steadily dwindling, there’s always a lot to do. Or at least some more trouble the Pathfinder just happens to stumble into. “If she has one thing to learn from Evfra, it is that I may find any excuse to go where I please.”

 

In a heartbeat, he recalls the tension from earlier, and pauses at his own mention of Evfra. But Ryder doesn’t seem bothered. If anything, it appears to put a smile on his face. 

 

“He really is kind, you know,” Ryder says, picking at the meat caught along the inside of the paripos’ flesh. “Evfra, I mean. Of course you know; you’ve known him forever.”

 

“For a very long time,” Jaal agrees. “And… yes. Evfra walks his own path. He is as he is for love, and for grief.”

 

“He puts the weight of all your lives on his shoulders,” Ryder murmurs, and nibbles on the paripos flesh. 

 

“He does.”

 

A cool breeze gusts over the city, caressing Jaal’s face and tousling Ryder’s hair. “I like him,” he announces suddenly, drawing a curious sound from Jaal’s throat. “Maybe he doesn’t care much for me, but that’s alright. He’s friendly when he wants to be.”

 

“There must be a glitch in my translator,” Jaal says, tossing the flesh of his paripos over the parapet behind him. “I thought I heard you call Evfra -”   
  


“Friendly. And he is! Sometimes. When the mood suits him.”

 

“You truly must be a miracle worker.” 

 

Ryder smiles and there’s something so soft in his expression that Jaal can hardly stand it. “He tries very hard not to be sometimes. But I understand his… mistrust.” 

 

“He had to give one of your people a chance at some point. Even someone as stubborn as he is.” 

 

“I’m glad it was me then.” Ryder corrects his posture a bit. “It’s all I can ask for.”

 

Jaal can’t help but wonder if that it’s true. 

 

The wind picks up and carries heavy clouds with it over the hills on the horizon. By the time they make their way back to Ryder’s office, the clouds have come close enough to push in front of the star, casting the city in the dim pale light that promises rain. 

 

Ryder pulls his jacket tighter around his body. 

 

“Well this is new,” he says, ducking under the alcove with Jaal. 

 

“What is?”

 

“I was just - it’s funny, just the other day I was talking about how mild the weather’s been with Evfra.”

 

“Hmh. It isn’t a coincidence,” Jaal says, holding out a hand from below the shelter of the alcove to feel the first drops of rain. He can feel Ryder staring curiously at him and returns his gaze out of the corner of his eye. “I always bring storms wherever I go.”

 

He’s watched for a long, hard moment before Ryder gives his shoulder a light punch. “You’re fucking with me.”

 

Jaal startles a little, surprised. “I’m - hm.” 

 

“Oh! Shit. Uh. It means -”

 

“Contextually, I will… make my assumptions.” Jaal nudges Ryder back. “ _ Fuck _ is so versatile.”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

Jaal doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ryder put off his stride like this, actually flustered. He laughs just as the clouds open up above them. 

 

Ryder audibly gasps when the rain comes down in front of them, hitting the pavement outside their little alcove with enough force to spatter a little on their feet. 

 

“It will pass in a few minutes,” Jaal says, loud enough for Ryder to hear him over the patter of the rain. Ryder looks up at him, his eyes wide. 

 

“I’ve never seen it rain like this.” 

 

It’s almost a perfect sheet of water coming down in front of them, separating them from the rest of the world. They’ll stay dry enough here in their alcove despite the little rivulets of water already forming on the ground. 

 

Jaal leans in a little closer so he doesn’t have to shout. “Rain is often like this on Aya. Very intense but passes quickly.” 

 

“I see where your people get it from then.” Ryder grins. “The intensity.” 

 

Something about the volume of the rain and the twinkle in Ryder’s eye makes Jaal laugh - a loud burst, like thunder. He clasps Ryder’s shoulder, and doesn’t let go until a scant few moments later when, as sure as anything, the downpour slows to a trickle, and then nothing at all. 

  
The air smells damp and heavy, and particular in the way the white stone always does when drenched in rain. Ryder must be savoring it too, taking a deep breath through his nose. He exhales with a sigh. “I didn’t realize how much I missed rain.”

 

“What is it like on Earth?” Jaal asks, finally opening the door. A few of the governor’s people give them odd looks as they pass, openly chastising them for standing out in the rain. Jaal waves them off, nudging Ryder toward his office.

 

“Rain’s - it’s different in different climates,” Ryder finally answers, tossing the old pit of his paripos into a bin by his desk. “But it almost always lasts longer than that.”

 

“The streets would wash away,” Jaal says, trying to imagine it. 

 

Ryder laughs. “It’s usually not nearly as strong as this was.” He looks towards the window. “It was quite nice sometimes. Rainy afternoons. An excuse to stay inside and get comfortable.” 

 

“You make it sound nice.”

 

“I’m probably romanticizing it.” He makes a vague gesture with his hand. “You know, distance makes the heart grow fonder.” 

 

“A strange sentiment. And not at all true in my experience.” 

 

Another laugh, poorly hidden when Ryder ducks his head. “I agree, actually. Whoever thought of it probably didn’t plan on traveling to a whole new galaxy.” 

 

“Probably not,” Jaal agrees. “I imagine very few people do.”  

 

Ryder smiles, opening his mouth to respond as he checks his omnitool before he freezes. “Shit! I’m gonna be late.” Ducking around the desk, Ryder snags one datapad of many off the surface, along with an unfamiliar device that looks Remnant in nature. “Sorry, Jaal, I need to -”

 

“The Moshae will forgive you. Unless I am there to illustrate why you’re late.” He follows Ryder with his eyes as he bustles around the office, stuffing things into his bag. “Naturally, I will be coming along.”

 

“I’m revoking my offer to take you from my sister,” Ryder groans, cinching up his bag and slinging it over a shoulder. “You’d only sabotage me.”

 

Jaal smirks as he follows Ryder out of the office, keeping silent as he sends off a quick message to the Moshae, apologizing for his lateness. 

 

He doesn’t blame Jaal, but the minute they step into her office and she sees him, she tuts. “It was not like you to be late for one of our meetings, and now I see what kept you. Hello, Jaal.”

 

She has already seen him today but she greets him like it’s the first time. “To make up for all the months you’ve stayed away,” she says, not unlike chiding a child. 

 

“Weeks, at most.” 

 

“It feels like months to me.” She ushers them to the seats in front of her desk which looks markedly cleaner and more organized than Ryder’s, even though Jaal doesn’t doubt that she’s just as busy as him. “Doesn’t it, Ryder?” 

 

“It does,” Ryder agrees, grinning at Jaal. 

 

“Even though it seems we accomplish so much more when you are not here to distract our best diplomats.” She sits down at her desk and pulls a datapad towards herself. “Has he shown what he has prepared for the celebration? It’s quite remarkable.”

 

“Some of it,” Jaal says, wondering if he should have asked to see more. 

 

Listening to Ryder confer with the Moshae is almost like how it was so long ago, side by side with Akksul. All at once it takes Jaal back to his youth, and makes him relieved that Ryder wasn’t around for Akksul’s downfall. He doesn’t relish in the idea of a uniform Roekaar having free reign of Aya with Ryder here. 

 

Shaking his head to rid himself of the notion, Jaal quietly excuses himself from the meeting of scientific minds, making promises to revisit them both that likely fall upon deaf ears. 


	6. Chapter 6

Ryder’s absence from Aya is a void Evfra is determined to ignore, despite the city’s best efforts. With him gone and news of Evfra’s involvement with the memorial spread, all inquiries they can’t bring to Ryder seem to find their way to Evfra’s office. The Moshae focuses her attention on him now too, no matter what Evfra does to placate her.

 

The day after he leaves, the Tempest follows toward Havarl. It’s only when news of the ship departing reaches Evfra that he realizes Jaal visited only once - on the day of his arrival, when the Pathfinder was occupied with pestering her brother.

 

He tries not to dwell on it too much. Jaal usually makes the most of the short time his visits allow him but it’s just as likely that he got swept up in the preparations for the celebration as the rest of them. 

 

He sends his notes on Ryder’s last revision of his guide a few days before he is scheduled to leave for Havarl himself. Ryder gives his thanks as always and afterwards… there’s silence. 

 

It’s the first time in weeks that there is no need for communication between them, the familiar back and forth grinding to a halt. Not that he doesn’t have enough to do even without having to read and comment on pages upon pages of the most basic cultural concepts. 

 

He still doesn’t like the thought of going to Havarl and attending the memorial, even after having been so involved in the planning. But even he can’t deny that most of his people seems to be excited about the upcoming celebration. On the morning of their departure, there’s an almost feverish energy in the air. 

 

Aboard the shuttle he shares with the Moshae and a handful of his highest-ranking officers, Evfra flicks through his most recent messages. These days, most of them are confirmation of decimated cells of kett. One of the most recent stands out. 

 

_ Safe travels! _ Ryder has sent, and little else apart from his name. Evfra assumes these are well wishes. He thinks on the date and the time, and realizes that Ryder is likely at this moment on a shuttle back to Aya, and opens a response column. 

 

_ And to you. _

 

The journey to Havarl is uneventful; Evfra even manages to clear out his inbox, something he’s been able to do far more frequently in recent weeks. He doesn’t dwell on what will become of the Resistance once there’s nothing left to resist. They touch down on home soil, and when Evfra steps out, like his brothers and sisters with him, he breathes deeply. 

 

It is  _ good  _ to be home.

 

Despite having been involved in the planning of the celebration so much more than he wanted, Evfra still doesn’t really know what to expect. He’s heard of Milky Way parties - strange stiff affairs according to all angara who’d been unlucky enough to attend one. But stepping out of the shuttle, Evfra is greeted by an atmosphere that is distinctly angaran. 

 

There’s music and food and angara wherever he looks. Huge pavilions have been built to shield the event from wind and weather, with lengths of sheer fabric softly swaying in the breeze. He recognizes a few things he talked about with Ryder, like the paper lanterns high up in the tree and the traditional torches lighting the path up the hill to where the actual memorial is to take place. 

 

And everything, even in the smallest details, carries Ryder’s signature. Perhaps it’s only because Evfra is so aware of the person who planned this event but he sees him in everything, from the Tavum-spiked fruit juice to the smooth transition between items on the agenda. 

 

He did well, Evfra thinks and something almost a little like pride swells in his chest despite his best efforts to ignore it. 

 

Even spotting the Pathfinder and her crew in the distance can’t quite dampen his mood. He knew she’d be here, after all.

 

The list of their fallen is too extensive to quantify; he doubts the angaran people have an accurate record of their fallen. It would have been impossible for an alien to secure that information. Still, Ryder appears to have made a valiant effort - a projection of name after name in Shelesh cascades down a high Remnant wall. Some of them Evfra recognizes. Many are from before his time. 

 

“There would have been more if not for you,” comes a familiar voice from his side. Evfra glances over at Jaal, whose gaze is affixed to the wall before them.

 

“If not for you, it may have been endless,” Evfra counters, turning back. He saw the name of Jaal’s father drift by, only minutes before he’d approached. He does not mention it. “You did us a great service before  _ and _ after you were under my command.” The corners of his mouth tick upward. “You always were one of my best.”

 

“Evfra…”

 

He reaches out, squeezing Jaal’s shoulder. “And you were always terrible at accepting praise.”

 

“It isn’t all mine to accept.”

 

“Accept a margin, then.” 

 

Evfra can feel Jaal tense underneath his touch but after a moment, he reaches up and covers his hand with his. “I will try.” 

 

They gaze up at the names again as they keep coming like a river cascading over a cliff face. Endless. The angara around them speak in hushed voices if at all, the dead resonating in every word spoken and unspoken. 

 

From the corner of his eye, Evfra can feel Jaal watching him. He’s not subtle about it. He was never a very good spy. But Evfra allows it for a moment longer before he turns his head. To his credit, Jaal doesn’t avert his gaze. 

 

“There’s something on your mind,” Evfra says and as soon as he says it out loud he knows it’s true. 

 

Jaal doesn’t deny it but instead says nothing at all. He holds his gaze for a moment longer before turning his head back to the names. Evfra doesn’t know what to do with that, doesn’t know how to pry for answers from a man who always gave them so freely. 

 

Jaal shakes his head and straightens his back, his mind made up about… something. 

 

“I will see you later,” he says and before Evfra can say another word, he’s vanished in the crowd.

 

It was a brief moment of respite for Evfra; as the evening wears on and the intoxicants flow, more and more people approach him for words. Some are touching - those of his people, who they lost, and those he can’t take credit for keeping alive. Others are… well, aliens. Sympathetic. Remorseful. 

 

The salarians and the krogan can share at least a bit of their pain. Fortunately for Evfra, it’s also the salarians and the krogan who don’t get emotional about it.

 

Quietly, privately, a small part of him considers how much more tolerable the event would be if he had someone to divert the aliens’ attention away. Someone with tact. 

 

“Hey, Evfra!”

 

_ Not _ her.

 

Evfra turns toward the Pathfinder’s voice as she slips through a gap in the crowd. The three mothers of one of his agents nod to Evfra and clasp the Pathfinder’s hands before they go to find their children. “Pathfinder,” he greets.

 

She has two drinks in her hands and extends one to him. 

 

He blinks but makes no move to accept it. 

 

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re avoiding me,” she says, unfazed. She holds the drink a little higher, closer to his chest. He’s fully aware of how awkward it must look to a bystander.

 

With a small grunt, he snatches it out her hand. “Unsuccessfully, it would appear.” 

 

She sighs. Theatrical. “One of these days you’re really going to hurt my feelings, Evfra.”

 

He stares, still hoping she’ll just go and leave him alone. 

 

“Yeah, okay. Not very likely.” She raises her glass to him before downing it in one. With any luck, she’ll be passed out over her turian’s lap in less than an hour. 

 

How two people who shared a womb can be so different from each other never fails to baffle him.

 

Evfra turns his head to see if he can spot anyone from her crew who could take her off his hands. Somewhere in the distance he thinks he spots the familiar pink of Jaal’s head.  The Pathfinder eyes the glass in Evfra’s hand like she’s disappointed she gave it over. 

 

“You know who’d enjoy this?” she mutters, gesturing toward the mingling crowd. Or maybe the banquet table; her hand strays a little. She snorts. “My workaholic brother. I can’t believe Evfra de Tershaav attends a party when my social butterfly of a baby brother won’t. What’s keeping him so busy he can’t take a night off?” She’s rambling, color high in her cheeks, but she doesn’t sway on her feet. Her posture is sturdy as she folds her arms over her chest. Something in her expression shifts. “Maybe this task was too big for him… I know he likes to keep busy, but maybe I should find him something on an outpost…”

 

“He knows his limits, and he does his job admirably,” Evfra finds himself saying. The Pathfinder glances up at him, and he finally brings the cup to his lips to avoid her gaze. The amber liquid inside burns his tongue like fire, but not nearly enough to make him stop drinkin.

 

“At least then I’d get to trash talk you again without him chiming in about how  _ helpful _ you are.”

 

Evfra almost chokes on his drink. He thinks he hides it smoothly enough but when he dares to look at her again, he can’t help but notice her raised eyebrow. 

 

“Our areas of work temporarily aligned,” he says after a moment, lowering his glass. 

 

“Sure. Funny how that happens.”

 

Evfra feels irritation prick at the back of his spine, mostly with himself. “Your brother is respectful in many ways that other members of your species are not.” 

 

She scoffs. “If you call him _tolerable_ I’m going to scream.” She looks at the empty glass in her hands and Evfra hopes it’s motivation enough for her to leave. “But still, missing a party he organized himself because of work? That’s ridiculous. Even for him.”

 

Perhaps it’s the drink finally kicking in, but her words sink in slowly. With a start, Evfra realizes Ryder must have lied to her. Or at the very least kept quiet about the reason he wasn’t on the guest list. It’s… strange. And very much unlike him. 

 

“Are all humans so overbearing toward their siblings’ careers?” he asks instead of something more revealing. Whatever Ryder’s reasons were for keeping his absence vague, Evfra won’t shine a light on them. 

 

“Oh, no, just me. I’m the only one.” The Pathfinder glances at his cup. “How’s the whiskey treating you?”

 

Evfra holds his glass up to the light, observing the liquid inside. “If it kills me, I’m confident in the next in the chain of command to take my place.”

 

“Yeah? And who’s that?”

 

He presses the cup to his lips again. “Classified.”

 

Another sigh. “You never change, do you?” 

 

"Not with any luck.” 

 

“Tell you what. I’ll get a refill and something even stronger for you and perhaps I’ll get to find out that classified information sooner than you think.” 

 

Satisfied with this new excuse for drinking, she pats him on the shoulder and brushes past him to vanish into the crowd. Evfra immediately starts moving, determined to find a new location before she can return. 

 

He spots the Moshae underneath one of the pavilions in the distance and considers joining her for a moment. But she’s with a turian whose name he can’t remember but who he is pretty sure he insulted in a meeting a few months back. 

 

So he stops in the middle of the crowd, uncertain where to go until he feels a light touch at his left elbow. He turns around only to find Jaal by his side, a tall glass of tavum in his hand. 

 

“I see the Pathfinder found you,” he says, with a pointed nod at Evfra’s glass. 

 

“To my misfortune.”

 

Jaal’s deep laughter inspires some of his own, and Jaal graciously takes his glass to peer inside. “Ah. Whiskey.” He hands it back - or attempts to. Evfra staunchly declines, and with a shrug - such a human gesture - Jaal takes a sip himself. “An acquired taste. I’m told its exceptional age makes it -”

 

“Extremely valuable.”

 

Jaal pauses. Evfra returns his shrug mockingly and takes the glass back. “You aren’t the only one who parleys with talkative aliens these days.”

 

He takes another sip and immediately regrets it. Without a word, Jaal takes it when he hands it back. 

 

“Age doesn’t account for taste, then?” Jaal teases. Evfra’s lip curls.

 

“I don’t think even hot water could salvage that.” 

 

Or fruit juice. Which has never been to Evfra’s particular taste, but…

 

“You seem discontent,” Jaal says and takes a sip of his Tavum - presumably to wash away the taste of the whiskey. 

 

“Do I?”

 

“More than usual, I mean.” Jaal pauses. “Are the festivities not to your liking?”

 

Evfra hesitates. There’s something there. An edge that goes beyond Jaal’s usual teasing. He remembers the way he tensed at Evfra’s touch before. There’s no shortage of things that Evfra finds irritating but this is certainly at the top of the list. 

 

“Speak your mind, Jaal. This tiptoeing around does not become you.” 

 

Jaal narrows his eyes, an expression of real frustration flashing across his face for just a split second. Is this another thing he’s picked up from the aliens? Guarding his emotions like a fool? 

 

“I wonder if the source for our discontent is not the same,” Jaal says. 

 

“I don’t follow.” 

 

Jaal averts his eyes - no, he’s looking for something, or someone. When Evfra follows his gaze, he sees the Pathfinder caught by her crewmates at the banquet table. Apparently satisfied, Jaal turns back to him. 

 

“This memorial is an opportunity for our people to rise above their grief in celebration,” Jaal says, his gaze as penetrating as always. “It’s perfect. Respectful. Tasteful.  _ Enjoyable. _ And the person who made it so is on Aya.”

 

Ah. 

 

Evfra holds Jaal’s gaze, turning his body to fully face him. “You’re upset that the ambassador isn’t here.”

 

“Of course I am.” Jaal doesn’t think twice before he lifts the glass of whiskey and downs it in one swallow. Evfra’s stomach clenches in sympathy.

 

“He and I came to an agreement.”

 

“An agreement.” Jaal’s lip curls in disgust. “He deserves to be here.”

 

Evfra takes a deep breath. “I won’t deny that he did well in planning this. I had my doubts but I see now they were largely unfounded. But this was always meant as a celebration for those who’ve fought in this war. Those who risked everything. And the ambassador agreed with me.”

 

“You are a fool, Evfra de Tershaav,” Jaal says, keeping his voice low enough for only Evfra to hear. “You’ve worked with him for weeks. Did you not once make the effort to learn anything about him? Or were you so satisfied when your prejudices were affirmed at first glance that you did not bother to look further?” 

 

Heat rises in Evfra’s cheeks, if from the drink or from embarrassment he can’t quite tell. “Speak your mind then. If you know so much more than I.” 

 

Jaal blinks. He looks like a man who so did not expect the wall to crumble that he was caught in the midst of bashing in head first. He opens his mouth to speak but seems to think better of it at the last moment.

 

“I’ve made a promise,” he says. “And I will not break it just because you are too stubborn to see what is right before your eyes.” 

 

“A promise?" Evra pushes. "To Ryder?”

 

“It is not my story to tell. He’d be upset to know that I’ve told you as much as I have.” Jaal’s shoulders slump a bit, all righteous fury suddenly gone from him. “You have made a mistake, Evfra.”

 

Jaal is impulsive, but never without cause. If he believes Evfra to be in the wrong, there’s little reason for Evfra to disbelieve him. 

 

“Have I?” he mutters. What has he missed? What does Jaal know that he doesn’t? Surely the time he’s spent with Ryder can’t amount to much more than Evfra himself. Intel had informed him seasons and seasons ago that the Pathfinder’s brother was kept aboard the Nexus, and after the battle for Meridian he was bedridden for weeks. The time between that it took to station him on Aya was spent in Meridian’s medical facilities. In all that time, Evfra knew Jaal to be with the Pathfinder.

 

Jaal leans back against a tall and winding tree, and Evfra joins him thoughtfully. “Do you know him very well?”

 

“Yes,” Jaal says. Then, “... No. Mh. Better than you, but not as much as I’d like.”

 

Evfra watches him from the corner of his eye. “I see.” 

 

“Wouldn’t you? Like to know him better, I mean.” 

 

Evfra almost laughs. That Jaal would even ask him this. But there’s something, just the faintest feeling, holding him back. If he lets himself think about it, about the unthinkable. Has he not gotten to know him better over the past few weeks? Despite his best efforts? And if he’s honest, has he not found some enjoyment in it? 

 

Ryder never pries, never pushes Evfra for more than he is willing to give. Perhaps in turn, Evfra hasn’t pushed enough. 

 

“If me not knowing him well enough has led to causing him distress…” He pauses. “That wasn’t my intention.”

 

Jaal laughs suddenly, a sound of pure relief, and pats his shoulder with one hand. “Seeing us like this would certainly cause him distress.” 

 

“He would hate it.” 

 

“He would.” Jaal sighs and leans back against the tree. There’s a strange sense of familiarity between them, like a thin thread tying them together. Something more than the bond that’s always been there - the one forged in blood and grief and war. Evfra doesn’t know where it’s coming from. Looking at it too closely seems… dangerous. 

 

“We truly met on Meridian,” Jaal offers after several silent moments people-watching. Evfra glances toward him, as though Jaal needs any encouragement to continue. “Rebuilding was underway. He had suffered… greatly. Trauma to his brain, his body.”

 

“I recall a period of recuperation,” Evfra says. At Jaal’s curious look, he supplies, “Intel. Not covertly obtained; the Pathfinder harbors no secrets from the universe at large.”

 

“Hmh.” Jaal grins. “That is true. He was recovering for quite some time between the Archon’s downfall and his relocation to Aya. We remained on Meridian, mostly. Aiding the settling of the planet. I met him at a… vulnerable time. We became friends.”

 

“That has always been easy for you,” Evfra says. 

 

“You say that like it’s not a virtue.”

 

Evfra exhales a breath of amusement. “Merely an observation.”

 

Jaal makes a contemplative noise. “He makes it easy. I imagine even if it usually weren’t for me.” 

 

There’s a jab at Evfra in there, not even in the least subtle, but Evfra allows it for now. He thinks of the easy way Ryder has snuck into his life - and somehow even into his thoughts. 

 

“He has his ways.”

 

Jaal watches him for a moment before stepping away from the tree with a heavy sigh. “You should talk to him. When you get back to Aya.” 

 

“I am sure that won’t be avoidable. He has made a habit of scheduling our meetings himself.” 

 

“Evfra…”

 

“I will do it.” 

 

Jaal doesn’t look entirely satisfied but it’ll do for now. 

 

“Hey, you two,” the Pathfinder calls through the crowd. She’s holding several cups high above her head as she wades through the crowd. Inexplicably, the look on Jaal’s face is fond. When the Pathfinder finally stops in front of them, her face is flushed from drink and exertion, smile cocky. “Jaal, always with the impeccable timing.”

 

“I live to serve.” He pauses. “For what am I serving now?”

 

The Pathfinder shrugs. “Oh, well, I brought three of these babies along because I realized how much I’d miss one if I gave one to Evfra, but now that you’re here, I won’t bear the shame of double-fisted drinking.”

 

“You feel shame?” Evfra asks. The Pathfinder draws up a devastated face and aims it at Jaal, who mimics her shrug. 

 

“I’m just as surprised as he is.”

 

“Boo. Boo to both of you.” She hands a fresh glass to each of them. Evfra immediately passes his to Jaal. “Hey!”

 

“Unlike you, my friend,” Jaal says, tipping the contents of the second glass into the first, “I feel no shame in drinking twice as much as I should.”

 

“I was only trying to make a good impression.” 

 

“For once.” 

 

“For once.” The Pathfinder clinks her glass against Jaal’s. “In my brother’s absence.” 


	7. Chapter 7

Despite everything, Evfra is sad to leave Havarl. He’s scheduled to be on one of the first shuttles back to Aya, having been adamant about the piles of work that would surely await him back home. He doesn’t have time for an extended vacation.

 

But as the shuttle takes off, he looks out of the window and his chest feels oddly tight as he sees the lush forests of Havarl growing smaller and smaller below. For a while he can still see the pavilions from the party among the trees until they disappear from sight.

 

They arrive with little fanfare, he and the select few who chose to depart early, and that’s exactly how he prefers it. The Moshae’s return will yield a greater turnout. Evfra stops by his home to cleanse himself of the sensation of recycled air and the general funk one accumulates spending nearly a day in a shuttle in stagnant space.

 

With a change of clothes and a quick meal of nutrient paste, he’s out the door on his way to the headquarters.

 

He’s welcomed home at the Tavetaan, a cloth sack full to bursting with elmohk slung over the counter at him in passing. They’re intended for sharing, so he doesn’t protest overmuch, tucking the sack under his arm as he goes.

 

The path to the headquarters is fairly straightforward, but when he comes to the turn toward the embassy, Evfra’s ceaseless legs slow to a stop. He doesn’t give himself the time to think twice, hesitation for a more uncertain man as he leaves the warm light of the star to the shade of the tall buildings. Inside the embassy the air is cooler still, pleasantly so. A few heads turn toward him as though surprised at his presence.

 

“Meridian’s Ambassador -” he begins, and a secretary points down a short hallway leading toward the back of the building.

 

The building in which they have housed the embassy isn’t the most luxurious and as Evfra is walking down the narrow dim hallway to Ryder’s office, he’s almost a little embarrassed to remember the part he played in that decision. He’s heard tales of a few technical malfunctions in the early days of the embassy as well but as he approaches Ryder’s doors now, they slide open without a problem.

 

Light from the tall open windows streams in and Evfra blinks against the sudden brightness. The office is small and Evfra can tell at first glance that the lights on the ceiling should have been replaced years ago. The walls could use a fresh coat of paint as well. But the windows let in enough light for now and there are fresh flowers on the desk. The rest of the office is… surprisingly cluttered.

 

At the sound of the doors opening, Ryder turns around where he’s standing in front of a board filled with plans and schedules. His surprise is replaced by a warm smile.

 

“Evfra! You’re back!"

 

Ryder walks over to his desk to put down the datapad he was holding. “Excuse the mess. I’m still trying to get my office back to normal after the memorial planning.” He hesitates for a moment. “Let me just put this away.” He picks up a heavy looking box from the only chair in front of his desk and puts it down near the window. “Please have a seat.”

 

“That isn’t necessary. I was just… stopping by.”

 

Ryder’s expression wilts. “That’s a shame. I just got a new chair for visitors the other day. Nobody’s used it yet.”

 

Evfra glances down at the seat. It’s standard fare, wide with a tall back. Possibly even more comfortable than Ryder’s, given how little time he seems to spend in it. Checking his device yields no new messages from his ground troops - quite possibly the longest he’s gone without a new message in his career. The lack of work ahead of him also yields the niggling sensation of a different sort of obligation.

 

Suppressing a sigh, Evfra takes the bag of elmohk from under his arm and places it on the desk as he settles himself into the chair. “Your party was a success.”

 

“I heard. I got the first reports last night.” Ryder smiles. “But hearing it from you means a lot.”

 

“It does.”

 

“I don’t know if you remember but you were integral during the planning process.”

 

Evfra exhales a breath of amusement. “I have a faint memory of it, yes.”

 

He watches Ryder walk around his desk and take a seat in his own chair. Compared to the way he was before he left for Havarl, he seems much more relaxed now, the weight of celebration no longer on his shoulders. Evfra doesn’t doubt he’s going to find a new project soon enough but at least for now it seems like he’s at least getting enough sleep again.

 

“I’m still waiting to hear back from a few people but it seems the guide to angaran customs was very helpful as well.” Ryder reaches out to thumb at one of the magenta petals of the flowers on his desk, hanging heavy out of their vase. “I meant to thank you again. I could never have finished it without you.”

 

“There is no need.”

 

“Yes, there is.” Ryder’s smile is a quiet thing. Thoughtful. “I hope it won’t be the last time we work together.”

 

Reaching out, Evfra takes an oblong elmohk from the bag and digs his thumbs into the hard, spiky flesh. There’s a muted crack followed by a tear as he breaks it in half, careful not to let the gelatinous insides fall out. He hands one half to Ryder.

 

“You aliens are… very strange,” he mutters, tipping the elmohk to his lips. He’s never had the patience to slice it when it can be sucked just as easily as nutrient paste. Ryder cups the elmohk half in both hands, watching him. “Especially humans.”

 

“We probably seem that way,” is his diplomatic agreement as he slowly moves to copy Evfra.

 

“I’ve never met a people so eager to keep company with people who loudly profess the contrary.”

 

“We can be quite… stubborn.”

 

“I have noticed.”

 

Ryder looks contemplative for a moment. “Perseverance. I think it’s the one thing we have going for us. In a universe full of races that are arguably miles ahead of us. Biologically.” He shrugs. “But there are some who are better at it than others, I suppose. We’re not all the same.”

 

Evfra hides his smile behind his elmohk. “That is something I have come to learn.”

 

“You’re talking about my sister.”

 

“I’m talking about you.”

 

Ryder blinks. It isn’t often that Evfra gets to see him genuinely thrown. It only takes him a moment to recover. “I think perseverance might be something the angara and us have in common after all.” His smile is all innocence. “At least I’ve encountered my fair share of stubbornness here too.”

 

“A bold statement for a diplomat.”

 

“Merely a cultural observation.”

 

It’s so easy to fall back into their old rhythm. Even without the work and the late hours, with just the two of them and sunshine falling through the windows and the sticky sweet taste of fruit on his tongue.

 

But there’s something else, unspoken words hanging in the air between them. Evfra knows he never would have noticed if it hadn’t been for Jaal. But now that he has, he knows he can’t ignore them.

 

“Ambassador,” he says, cracking open another fruit and sliding both halves toward Ryder across his desk. “I feel you know more about me than I do about you. I’d like to rectify that.”

 

Again, Ryder looks gobsmacked - this time it’s not so easily masked. “I - what?”

 

“Normally, the contrary is true.” Evfra leans forward, elbows to his knees. “You have me at an advantage. I’d like to be on equal footing. Are you free tonight?”

 

“I’m…” Ryder turns his tablet on before an aborted shake of his head, “I mean - I can be? Sorry, this is... What did you have in mind?”

 

For all his energy, Evfra doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ryder _scramble_.

 

“I admit I have not planned that far ahead.”

 

His confession seems to put Ryder at least a little bit at ease. He put his tablet down on the desk and folds his hands - not before Evfra can notice their shaking.

 

“The tavetaan?”

 

Evfra considers it for a moment. The public space might make Ryder feel more comfortable. It might make him feel more comfortable. But it’s not really a place for private conversation. Not when someone is as well known as they both are.

 

Ryder watches him from across the table. “I could also invite you to my apartment,” he says, his smile a little nervous. “If that is not too…” He pauses and makes a gesture with his hand that Evfra can’t quite interpret.

 

“Why not both,” he finally says. “I believe I am quite accustomed to escorting you home by now.”

 

Ryder laughs, some of the tension in his shoulders falling away. He peeks at Evfra from below the curl of his dark eyelashes and reaches for the elmohk. “I’d like that.”

  
  
  
  


 

Evfra leaves the bag with him, to keep or share as he sees fit, and returns to work. No one is surprised to see him, though a pair of soldiers who had returned on the shuttle with him are a little bewildered at beating him to the headquarters by such a margin. He spends the rest of the day doing very little at all, which dregs up a familiar cocktail of relief and chagrin.

 

When he finally steps out in the late evening, a small part of him wonders if he might be leaving as early as he is, even without prior engagements. He won’t be out of a job, when the Kett are finally wiped from Andromeda, but the militia will fall back to preparation drills. It will take time to decide exactly what that will entail; there was never a need to prepare for invasion before, and since the arrival of the Kett they’ve been fully on the aggressive.

 

Evfra’s thoughts turn slowly from war as the warm evening air fills his lungs. The walk toward the Tavetaan is a brief respite between the weight of duty and the joviality of the canteen. He has a scant few moments to appreciate the silence before someone tries to stick a drink in his hand, and he cherishes each one.

 

It’s less busy than usual around this time of day. Evfra assumes it’s because his people still haven’t returned from Havarl. But even without many of his own soldiers missing, the Tavetaan is packed enough that it takes him a moment to spot Ryder.

 

He looks positively cornered at the other end of the room by two tall angara still in their police uniforms. One of them tops off Ryder’s glass with fruit juice while the other tells him a story that apparently requires a lot of gesticulation. From across the room, Evfra can see Ryder nod politely but there’s a tension in his body that betrays him.

 

“Ambassador.” Evfra steps up next to them, purposefully placing himself between Ryder and the wildly gesturing man to his right. “There you are.”

 

The man whose story he’s interrupted blinks. “Evfra, I didn’t expect you here. I was just telling -”

 

“A word, Ambassador?” Evfra places a hand on Ryder’s shoulder.

 

“Oh, of course,” Ryder says, smiling apologetically at the other as if he wasn’t already moving away from them. “Excuse me for a moment.”

 

Evfra guides him to another corner of the room, weaving through the crowd. He keeps his face stern and a hand on the small of his back, hoping it will dissuade others from cutting in at least for a little while.

 

“Thank you,” Ryder tells him as soon as they’re out of earshot. “I think I met him on Meridian a few months ago but I couldn’t even remember his name. It was starting to get really embarrassing.”

 

A server brings him a tall chilled bottle of fermented paripos, and gives him an inquisitive look when she realizes he’s settling in. Evfra can’t blame her; he doesn’t remember the last time he stuck around to enjoy his drink of preference around the others, though he picks a bottle up often enough.

 

He dislodges the top and takes a sip while Ryder makes himself comfortable on a tall stool.

 

“How many people could you have met? You came to Aya not long after reclaiming Meridian,” Evfra says, pressing the thumb of his glove to the frosted glass. “And your time on Meridian…”

 

Ryder takes a deep swallow from his glass with a grimace Evfra doesn’t think can be blamed on the taste. “I spent… a lot of it recuperating, yeah. I didn’t get out much. I met a lot of angara during preparations for the job, but -” He waves a hand. “I’m normally very good with names. Um. But at the time, I was still recuperating in… a different way.”

 

“From cryo?”

 

Ryder pauses, thumbing at the rim of his glass. “Among other things.”

 

Evfra knows when he’s struck a nerve. He usually has that effect on people. But he also knows that continuing to pry could very well lead to him drinking the rest of the night alone after all.

 

“You seem better now. Healthy.”

 

“I am.” Ryder’s smile looks a little tense. “For the most part.” He shifts on his stool and looks so uncomfortable that Evfra feels bad for even having started this conversation.

 

“Do you plan on going back? To Meridian?”

 

Ryder laughs and it sounds more like relief than amusement. “Why? I had hoped you were less eager now to get rid of me.” When Evfra only stares at him, he sighs. “I don’t have any plans to go back. I would… like to avoid it, if possible.”

 

Evfra takes another sip as he contemplates how, exactly, he might draw answers from Ryder, and if it’s worth the risk to try. “I hear your people are thriving there.”

 

“I’m glad for it,” Ryder says with a nod. “I was pretty lucky. Compared to almost everyone else, I came into the game pretty late.”

 

“I don’t think I’d call it a game.”  
  
“Oh, sorry.” He smiles bashfully, swirling the liquid in his cup. “I slip back into idioms when I’ve been drinking. The sarcasm doesn’t help. I just - so much had been done by the time I was awake, and everything came to a climax by the time I was ready for active duty. And then - Meridian.”

 

“The dream of your people,” Evfra supplies. But again, Ryder’s face shifts into a brief grimace.

 

“Yeah. It’s been good for everyone. We were sent to find a home - several homes, and… well, some of us found them.”

 

“But... not yourself.”

 

Ryder gives him a long look, like he’s waiting for something else. “No, not me.”

 

“You don’t care much for Meridian, do you?”

 

“What gave me away?” Ryder asks with a tired little smile. When Evfra doesn’t parse the wording, he shakes his head. “Just bad memories, I suppose. It isn’t my place to judge it. A lot of people have fought a lot harder and longer than me for it. They deserve to love it.”

 

Evfra almost misses the way he phrases it but then it drops like a pebble into a pond. “Harder and longer than you. But you have fought.”

 

For a moment, he thinks Ryder is going to get up and bolt. He goes pale, his lips a straight tight line. Evfra has seen that expression before. Many, many times. On the faces of countless soldiers who lived through the unspeakable.

 

Jaal was right. He’s an idiot. “I didn’t know,” he says, lowering his bottle to the table. Ryder waves a flippant hand.

 

“No, don’t - don’t. I didn’t fight. Not like you.” Bit by bit he folds in on himself, and he won’t meet Evfra’s eyes. “Whatever I did, it - _happened_ to me. It wasn’t a fight. It was a struggle.”

 

Evfra searches his own thoughts, examining what he knows of the battle of Meridian. He knew very little of the people involved, aside from the basics. Ryder wasn’t tuned in to the Pathfinder’s comm channel; he would have records. He would have remembered.

 

There were so many people there during the battle, and after. Ryder truly would have been lost in a sea of faces, if Evfra had ever known to look.

 

He wants to ask why Ryder didn’t tell him, but Evfra knows better than anyone how many ways the tides of war can change a person.

 

“Your struggle was valiant. And you have my thanks for what you did - whatever it may have been.”

 

Ryder’s laugh is a nervous, shaky thing. He wraps a trembling hand around his glass and takes a sip. “You think I should’ve told you.”

 

“I think you must have had a good reason for why you did not. I respect that.”

 

Finally, Ryder meets his eyes. He’s still pale and when he sets his glass down on the table, his hands are still shaking. But he takes a deep breath before he speaks. “Thank you.” Another deep breath, slowly steadying himself. “Talking about it is still…” He pauses, makes a face as he’s struggling to find the right word.

 

“I understand.” Evfra hesitates, then picks up his bottle and drinks. “War does that. The things we see, the things we do.” He looks at Ryder. “The things that are done to us. Sometimes it takes time just to be able to say them out loud. You will get there. In your own time.”

 

So small it's nearly imperceptible, Ryder smiles down at his cup. "I appreciate that, Evfra."

 

Evfra can't remember the last time he finished a drink at the Tavetaan. It's been years, and longer still since he's felt unburdened enough to enjoy it. But by the time they stand to leave, he's managed two and a half bottles, the third split between Ryder and himself. The pleasant warmth of intoxication for the sake of good company tingles in his fingers and warms him at the very pit of his belly.

 

The drunken soldiers and civilians that had gravitated toward them in their time at the table protest their departure, but Evfra ignores them. Ryder is more genial in his farewells, unable to turn away the bottles of Thessian liqueur an asari slips into his hands.

 

“I have a full cupboard of these by now,” Ryder tells him when they finally manage to step out on the street. “I could open my own Tavetaan.”

 

“If you value your peace and quiet so little…”

 

The evening air is cool and pleasant on Evfra’s face after hours of being surrounded by people and drinking. Next to him, Ryder sighs and rolls his shoulders.

 

“Shall we?”

 

The walk to Ryder’s apartment is short and by now all too familiar. But this time, Evfra doesn’t stop at the bottom of the stairs but follows Ryder up and through the front door.

 

“I don’t get many visitors,” Ryder admits as he turns on the light. Evfra finds that hard to believe.

 

Ryder’s apartment is similarly cluttered as his office - without the need for professionalism perhaps even more so. There doesn’t seem to be a clear surface in the entire apartment.

 

“You have a lot of plants,” Evfra says, noticing the neat rows of pots on the windowsills. “Angaran.”

 

“Uh, yes. I do research in my spare time.” Ryder points towards a table in the back that would fit right into any laboratory, cluttered with equipment. If there’s more of an explanation, Ryder doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he make his way to the small kitchen in the back. “Take a seat on the couch. I’ll get you something to drink.” After seeing Evfra look at the bottles in his hands, he grins and adds, “Something angaran.”

 

He moves into the adjoining room and Evfra does what he’s told, making himself comfortable on the furniture as he takes in the room around him.

 

“Why don’t you utilize the Moshae’s laboratory?” he wonders aloud. “Surely she’d welcome you.”

 

“I’d love to,” Ryder’s voice comes drifting in from the kitchen as he clatters around in the cabinets. “But there’s - ah, there you are - I’m just a bit… busy. Turns out, diplomacy is a full time job. But I’d like to. Sometime.”

 

He curses quietly before he returns, grimacing at his own hands. Evfra can see why; the side of one glass has clearly overflown, dripping over Ryder’s fingers. He hands the clean one to Evfra, and sips mulishly at the overfull one before shifting it into his other hand to lick his fingers clean.

 

Perhaps it’s the Tavum, but the sight is distracting. His small pink tongue - the frown of concentration on his face. Evfra averts his eyes and shifts in his seat, heat pooling deep in his belly

 

It’s definitely the Tavum.

 

“Why did you become a diplomat?” Evfra asks, just to fill the silence. Just to keep his treacherous mind from wandering. “If your passions lie elsewhere.”

 

“It’s an important job. And we have many scientists. Many who are arguably a lot better at it than I am.” Ryder laughs and sits down in the chair across from him, careful not to spill more of his drink.

 

Evfra says. “I suppose I can only judge your skills as a diplomat.”

 

“I believe you have. Many times,” Ryder says with a gleam in his eye.

 

Curiosity getting the better of him, Evfra lets his gaze wander through the room until he pauses at something on the table in front of him. He’s seen something like it before. A book, he remembers. Paper. Terribly old-fashioned, he’s been told. Even for humans. But he’s never held one in his hand.

 

“Ah,” Ryder says when he sees him picking it up. “One of the few things I brought from the Milky Way.”

 

“It’s special to you then?” There are markings on the side and front of it, the kind of script he’s seen Ryder use in his personal notes sometimes.

 

“It is.” Ryder almost looks a little embarrassed. “It’s, uh, poetry. My mother gave it to me when I was young.”

 

“Poetry.” Evfra takes a sip of his drink before setting it aside. He leans forward, blinking to focus his vision as he smooths a hand down a page. “Written poetry. This is an art.”

 

“Yeah.” Ryder perks up, shifting closer on the sofa until their shoulders touch. The pages are - fragile, with their age, and Evfra takes great care when he turns each one. “You like poetry?”

 

“I admire the art of it,” Evfra says, wishing he could contemplate the odd, disjointed verses on the book in his hands. The intoxicants war with him. “And poets. I admire… poets, also.”

 

“Hmm. Jaal is a poet.”

 

Softly, Evfra grunts. “He is. I’ve heard as much from the Moshae, and from his mother. Though I’ve not had the opportunity to hear any of it myself.”

 

“Me neither,” Ryder sighs, leaning a little more heavily against him. “I’m sure it’s good. He has a beautiful soul.”

 

Evfra contemplates that for a moment, his thoughts a little hazy. “A complex one.”

 

Ryder looks up at Evfra. “Do you think he’ll recite some for us one day?”

 

“I’m sure he would, for you.” There’s a thought there somewhere. An idea that flees from him as soon as he tries to hold on to it. “You care for him.”

 

“Who wouldn’t? He’s been very kind to me.” Ryder motions towards the potted plants on the windowsill. “He brings me seeds when he comes to visit. From all the places I can’t go myself.”

 

“Is the affection of Meridian’s ambassador so easily bought?”

 

Ryder pats his arm with a little smile. “It’s a start.”

 

The touch on his arm is light but Evfra can hardly focus on anything else. “You’ve been kind to me as well,” Ryder says after a moment of silence and Evfra can’t help but grunt at the thought.

 

“I’m sure many people would beg to differ.”

 

“Mm, but my opinion is the one that matters.” His hand drops as he flops back against the sofa, reaching out for his drink. Despite being balanced precariously on the cushion beside him, Ryder manages not to spill another drop as he takes a drink. Evfra catches himself staring and turns back to the book.

 

“You’re not normally this cocky.”

 

Ryder snorts into his cup. Evfra doesn’t get the joke. “Probably the alcohol. Asari stuff is… good. Want some?”

 

Evfra gingerly takes the glass when it’s offered, though he can feel the twist of his lips. “Your sister forced an awful thing upon me at the memorial. Jaal called it… whisper?”

 

“Whisper?”

 

Evfra frowns. “Wispy.”

 

“Whiskey?”

 

“Hm. That’s the one.”

 

He can feel Ryder’s eyes on him, and manfully turns to meet them. There’s a strange smile on his face - almost coy. It’s odd, paired with the glassiness of his eyes, the color high in his dark cheeks. “That’s funny. You seem like the whiskey type to me.”

 

“I do?”

 

“Mhm. Strong, a little gruff. Drinks his Tavum with water like he has no taste buds at all.”

 

Evfra grunts. “So cocky. Perhaps you’ve really had enough of this.” He holds the glass up to his nose and sniffs at it. The scent alone is enough to make him recoil. “Are you sure this is meant for consumption?”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Ryder makes an encouraging, albeit lazy gesture. “Try it.”

 

Under his watchful eye, Evfra takes a small sip. It’s strangely sweet, like concentrated fruit juice, but the aftertaste is pure fire going down his throat. He makes a face and Ryder’s laugh is impish as he takes the glass back from him.

 

“I take it you’ll stick to Tavum?”

 

“Your Milky Way liquor is the most alien thing about you,” Evfra says and clears his throat. He can still taste fire.

 

“Oh, I don’t know.” Ryder stretches his legs out, slouching so far down that he can rest the glass on his stomach. “I think it’s a great bond, for all of us. No matter where you are in the universe, people like to get… fuzzy.”

 

Evfra gives him a look, and Ryder indicates with his hand. “On the inside.”

 

“There’s an image.”

 

Ryder wrinkle his nose. Quite against his will, Evfra’s twitches in response. Ryder’s face melts with his smile. “I love it when you do that. Your nose. When it does - that.”

 

Suddenly, and certainly because of the alcohol, Evfra feels flushed.

 

It must show on his face because Ryder covers his mouth with one hand, eyes wide. “Oh no. Was that offensive?”

 

“Ah... no.” Evfra clears his throat again. “Just… unexpected.”

 

Relief washes over Ryder as he lets out a deep breath. “Oh, good.” His smile is just as wide as before. “You do that sometimes when you work and I always wanted to mention it.” He lowers his voice as if divulging a secret. “But it didn’t seem like a very professional thing to do.”

 

“This is certainly the better moment for it,” Evfra agrees.

 

He feels warm and heavy from the drink and the way Ryder looks up at him through long dark lashes has him feeling… something.

 

“It’s late,” Evfra says. “I’ve learned… quite a bit more than I expected.”

 

Ryder’s head lolls to the back of the sofa where he closes his eyes. “Stay,” he murmurs, blindly tracing the condensation on his glass. Evfra takes it from his hands and sets it aside with his own.

 

“You weren’t prepared for me.”

 

“That’s the truth,” Ryder agrees, laughing quietly to himself. “You can take the bed. I’m… very comfortable right here.”

 

Evfra allows himself a quiet chuckle and reaches out, lightly cuffing Ryder’s chin. “Until morning, when the grudge will cement. I think I’d rather put you to bed.”

 

“Mm. That sounds nice too.”

 

Ryder doesn’t move and doesn’t open his eyes so Evfra makes a quick decision and just scoops him up from the sofa. Humans are small but Ryder is heavier than he expected. He doesn’t know why he thought he’d weigh nothing at all.

 

Ryder makes a noise, something between indignation and amusement but only rests his head against Evfra’s shoulder, too tired to protest.

 

His bedroom is pretty much exactly what Evfra expected. There are more plants, although these seem to be more of a decorative nature. It also bears the signs of many nights Ryder’s spent working late. There’s a datapad on the pillow that Evfra nudges to the side before putting Ryder down on the bed.

 

Ryder makes another noise and holds on to the fabric of Evfra’s rofjinn when he tries to straighten back up.

 

“Thank you, Evfra.” His voice is already heavy with sleep. “This was… I had fun.”

 

Evfra gently loosens his grip on his rofjinn. “It was very enjoyable.”

 

“I knew you’d think so,” Ryder mumbles. His hand drops to the edge of the bed beside him. “Stay. Plenty of room.”

 

“Not as much as you think,” counters Evra, and even the naturally harsh tenor of his voice doesn’t rouse Ryder.

 

He knows he ought to go, but Evfra… lingers. Only for a moment, he watches Ryder sleep with a heart full of contemplation. He reaches out and brushes the hair that had fallen across Ryder’s brow. He wonders what it might feel like without the barrier of a glove between them. But it isn’t his place to know.

 

When he goes, he leaves a glass of water by Ryder’s bed, and the glasses washed beside the sink.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Byacolate is writing a gay comic about a wandering bard! [Check it out from the beginning HERE!](https://bardbouquet.tumblr.com/post/179195348759/a-dwarven-heirloom-a-blade-in-the-dark-and-a)
> 
>  
> 
> Inquire about fic reque$ts [here!](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/ask)  
> mywordsflyup's Tumblr: [damnable-rogue](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com/)  
> Byacolate's Tumblr: [wardencommando](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/).  
> 


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